Two to the Head: A Courier Six Novel
by SurprisinglyOdd
Summary: "Two to the head, but one gets up." Damn right. Even a bullet in the head can't keep this courier down. The lights of New Vegas glow on the horizon and one man holds the chip that can change the world. All she has to do is get it back. But business is never easy in the Mojave, and Brianna O'Reilly is part of something a hell of a lot bigger than a Platinum Chip. War never changes.
1. From the Grave

**GOODSPRINGS**

**JULY 14**

**19:56**

Pale sunlight peering in through broken shutters. Ragged breaths tainted with the taste of blood. Leaden muscles, pounding head, beating heart.

_"What the-?"_

The pain hit her like a charging bighorner, dragging an agonised cry from her throat. It was a trail of fire through her veins, a violent crackle of lightning down her spine. She was paralysed. She was burning. Someone was drilling holes in her skull and she couldn't even scream, couldn't even kick or curse or beg for the pain to stop. It was all she knew, all she was. It was chewing her up and spitting her out, it was-

It was over as quickly as it had come. No more agony. No more fire. Just a steady throb in the background of her muddled thoughts.

_Where am I?_

She could feel a hard mattress scratching against her bare arms. A whirring fan blew a light breeze over her skin from somewhere overhead. She traced the bumps on the mattress with the tips of her fingers. She wiggled her toes. She mumbled a few incoherent words. Despite the throbbing in her temples, she managed to turn her head slowly to one side. When she tried to open her eyes, a flash of white pain sealed them shut again. But she wasn't dead. She didn't know why this was such a startling realisation, but the knowledge that she was living and breathing made her heart thump just a little bit harder.

_She wasn't dead._

A sudden voice, male and gruff, lifted the heavy weight of silence.

"Well, I'll be damned." She detected the sound of feet scuffling against dry floorboards. "Welcome back to the land of the livin', missy! I sure didn't expect to see you twitchin' any time soon. Guess my sewin' skills ain't so bad after all."

She groaned as the stranger released an excitable hoot. Each word was like a blunt knife tearing through her skull. Experimentally, she cleared her throat and managed a weak croak. "Could you-? Could you ju-?"

"My apologies, ma'am," the stranger replied. "I don't expect you to get up there an' tap-dance for me or nothin', but you've been out cold for almost a solid week now. Forgive my excitement an' all that, but I'd like to at least see you open them eyes."

Her eyes snapped open. Her vision was a confusing haze of blinding colours, but that didn't stop her from trying to force herself up. Her arms were weak and trembling; her stomach lurched the moment she tried to pull herself into a sitting position. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, shuddering with disgust before falling back down with a thump of defeat.

"Hey now," the stranger warned, "I didn't mean you had to get up right this second. I know you're eager, darlin', but it's gonna be a while before you're up and doin' the Charleston." She heard the creaking of rusty springs as he sat himself down at the end of her bed. "'Least I know your brain's still functionin'. Thought I might have a breathin' corpse on my hands, if you get what I'm sayin'."

She didn't reply.

"You should be a little more enthusiastic, miss. That damn bullet shoulda killed ya."

"Bullet?" She asked.

And then she remembered.

_"I'm done, Francie. I'm out."_

_"Last time I'm ever gonna set foot in that place, Ben. I've found it. I've found my way out, just like you said I would."_

_"Who's there? Step out and I might kill you quickly."_

"Who brought me here?"

"You can thank ol' Victor for that. Dug you outta your own grave and wheeled you on over here right and quick. Stupid drawlin' moron's good for somethin', at least. And the man who shot you must have been the most cock-eyed son of a gun in the Mojave Desert. Only managed to get the very left side of your skull. Didn't even make a scratch on the ol' brain, but it sure rattled it 'round quite a bit. Even still, another few minutes and you woulda been a goner for sure."

Memories flickered behind her eyes, clearer and clearer with every word. She could hear fragments of conversation - something about birds and packages. She remembered looking straight into the barrel of a pistol aimed right between her eyes. Or slightly to the left, perhaps. She couldn't remember the finer details, but that bastard in the chequered suit hadn't intended to let her live.

"A chequered suit," she mumbled. "Slicked back hair. A cigarette, he had a cigarette, he-"

"Woah, woah, slow down there. Gettin' a little ahead of yourself, don't ya think? Let's not worry about the who and the why for now, not 'til you're back on your feet. That was some damn nasty business though - whole town's been talkin' about it. Me, I was the only one who went and made mysel' useful when that robot clean dropped y' in the middle of town. Managed to get all the bits of lead outta your skull right and quick, though I can't say nothin' about how pretty it's gonna be when that bandage comes off."

"Fantastic," she grumbled. "How bad is it, really?"

"Well, uh, it was mostly 'round your temple and very left side of your forehead where you took most of the damage. Your hair should probably cover a little of the scarring once I get the bandages off, but I'm afraid the darker tissue will be visible all the way up to your eye socket, most like. Hope you've still got your vision there."

"Sure, sure."

The stranger got to his feet with a theatrical groan. "I think your face is probably the least of your concerns, miss. Doesn't look like you'll be walkin' anywhere for some time. Guess you're stuck with me 'til those legs start itchin' to tango. You alright to stay awake a little while longer while I look at 'em for damage, or would you rather I knocked you out for a bit?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Alright, knock me out."

He chuckled. "Don't you worry, miss. I'm a certified doctor from ol' Vault 21, so you won't have to worry about a creepy old man doing anything to ya while yer drugged up and all that. Now just sit still and keep your muscles relaxed while I put this in."

"Yeah. That doesn't sound creepy at all."

He gave no indication that he'd heard her. "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to ask you just one question before I put you out again. You alright with tellin' me your name?"

"It's Brianna," she replied. At least that was one thing she could remember. "Brianna O'Reilly."

"Nice to meet you, Brianna. I'm Doc Mitchell, and it's a damn fine pleasure to welcome y' to Goodsprings. Great to finally meet y' after all."

"Pleasure's all mine."

She was out before the needle left her vein.

* * *

><p>"You don't understand, Doc- he was here again yesterday, and you know he isn't just asking anymore! If we don't hand that poor man over, Cobb's gonna gather his little friends out there and burn this place to the ground, and I am <em>not <em>gonna sit around and wait for that to happen. We've been doing that for way too long, and I'm sick of it!"

Brianna's eyelids flickered, a young woman's voice melting away the vivid pallet of her dreams until she returned to painful consciousness once again.

"Miss Smiles, I am a fusty old man with a bum leg. I don't know what you expect me to do, but-"

Fireflies zipped behind Brianna's eyes as they flickered open, allowing her to finally take in the doctor's office for all it was. The place was clean and quaint, illuminated by the light of a swinging bulb overhead. The bookshelves lining the walls were littered with old journals and thick volumes, leaving room for a few medical kits and some dusty photo frames. Test tubes and chemistry sets were scattered across a long desk by the door, where Doc Mitchell was standing with his arms folded. After a moment, he turned on his heels and shuffled back into his office.

"Ah, looks like my patient's finally awake," he announced loudly, glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh, really?" A woman piped from across the room, her voice bubbly and high-pitched in her excitement, but not unpleasantly so. "That's great!" The anger seemed to melt off her as she hurried into the room. "Hey! I've been dying to meet you!"

She mumbled something unintelligible in response, propping herself up slightly to get a clear view of the woman. Brianna guessed that she was biracial - Caucasian and Hispanic - but she couldn't be sure. She was pretty enough, with large brown eyes, lightly sun-kissed skin, full lips and a short, pointed nose. Her armour hugged her curves nicely, made from frayed leather clearly patched up in places. She wore her hair in a loose ponytail, and its strawberry blonde colour paired with her short body and beaming smile simply radiated a sunny disposition.

"It's not every day you hear of someone returning from the dead, y'know?" She continued. "And, well, I kinda wanted to know what happened to you. We don't see much action 'round these parts, so you eat up whatever news you can get. And you don't really look like the dangerous sort."

"Might have something to do with the hole in my head."

"Fair point, fair point. So, uh, are up for some storytelling yet? Ready to debunk the rumours about you climbing out of your grave with guns blazing? I personally like the one where you're covered in blood, wearing nothing but a leather thong, but Bethany thinks you're a scheming raider who cheated a huge amount of caps out of some New Vegas hotshot." She cleared her throat, seeming to realise that she was rambling. "But, uh, whatever the story is, it's nice to see you pulled through." She stuck out a hand. "I'm Sunny, Sunny Smiles. Great to meet you."

She managed to reach out and give Sunny's hand a weak shake. "Sunny Smiles? You're kidding."

"My parents were a couple of hippies, what can I say? Well, it's great to meet you, anyway. I'll be happy to help you out once you're up and out of here. I know a pretty good deal about surviving the wasteland if you're interested. Maybe I can help you to not get shot in the head again?"

"I'll think about it," she lied. "But you gotta tell me who Bob is first."

"Cobb," she corrected. "It's nothing. The guy's been hanging around here for a while now- just trying to cause trouble, we think. He's nothing but a big guy with empty threats and a pistol, hardly anything to worry about." She gave a reassuring smile. "Believe it or not, we're used to it out here. Every town gets its fair share of assholes, no matter how small it is."

"Yeah, nice try. I mean, he's only trying to burn this whole place to the ground, right?"

"Oh. You heard that?" She released a sigh of defeat. "Well, okay. He has some interesting friends. Powder Gangers, they call themselves. Bunch of convicts that escaped the NCRCF while you were knocked out. Didn't take long for them to get together and start up some stupid gang. Turns out giving dynamite to prisoners is a pretty bad idea."

The doctor pointedly cleared his throat. "Sunny, I'd appreciate it if we dropped the subject of escaped convicts and dynamite. Don't want my patient tryin' to play do-gooder so she can get herself shot again. Or blown up."

"I know," Sunny defended, "but I was thinking-" She turned to face Brianna again, hands clenching into fists. "Look, I don't make a habit of asking strangers for help - especially not the ones who go 'round getting themselves shot at - but something big's happening. Something really big. I'm just worried that the Powder Gangers might, you know, try to take over the town. Sounds crazy, I know, but it's not like they haven't threatened to do it before. If you're feeling better sometime soon, maybe you could-"

"Help you?"

"Well, yeah. I'm not saying you'd have to get rid of them for us or anything like that, but if the town's attacked we could use all the help we can get. Even if you can't fight for us, I'm sure there are lots of other things you could do. We need someone to-"

"Sunny!" The doctor snapped. "That'll do."

"But, Doc-"

"That's enough, Miss Smiles. I know you wanna help, but we can't afford to mess around with those people. You know as well as I do what they're capable of."

"I know, I know, but-"

"What? You think you can turn a bunch of farmers into an armed militia?"

"I'm saying we could try! Think about it! We have Chet's armour and guns, Trudy has a ton of friends down at the saloon, Pete's got his stash and you're here to patch us up if things go bad."

"I thought Trudy told you-"

"That we should hand an innocent man over in the interests of a quiet life? Doc, you know I don't want fighting. You know I'd hate to see anybody get hurt, but Ringo, he's-"

"You think we should risk our lives to protect a stranger that just came blunderin' in from nowhere because you've gone all doe-eyed on him? That is enough_,_ Sunny. Now _get._ I have a patient to attend to."

For a moment it looked as though Sunny was going to protest further, but she offered only one more comment. "You know _exactly_ why I want to help him," she hissed, before turning around and flouncing out of the doctor's office. There was a long, lingering silence before the front door slammed shut. The doc slumped down on the plastic chair at her bedside, groaning in defeat.

"She's a strange one, that girl. Never asks for any help and when she does it's because she wants to turn the whole damn town into an army. That just a woman thing?"

"Sure is."

"Ah, I get it." He clapped his hands together. "So, girlie. How y' feelin'?"

"Like shit. Can't keep my eyes open for more than a minute at a time. I've got the headache version of Syphilis and my memory's in bits."

"Headache and symptoms of Glaucoma," he replied, mostly to himself as he scribbled down her ailments in a notebook. "Probably temporary. Your legs are alright, though. Probably workin' just as they always did, but you'll still find it hard to walk for a little while. Dizziness and nausea can be expected. Possible-"

"I wanna try it."

"Pardon?"

"Let me stand up."

"Darlin', you can barely open your own eyes."

"I just want out of this bed, alright?!"

_Ouch._

Maybe shouting hadn't been the best option. Even her own words sent stabbing pains through her skull. But she had to get up sooner or later, and later meant less time to sort herself out and focus on getting out of this dump. What was the worst that could happen?

"Well, if you think you're up for it. I got a nice bath waiting for ya just across the hall, in fact. If you can get up and make it to my living room just out there," he gestured to an open door just a ways from the foot of her bed, "then you can answer me some questions so I can get an idea of your mental health. Hell, maybe I'll even spare you my last bar of soap."

"Fair enough."

"That's the spirit! Ready when you are, doll."

The doc extended a wrinkled hand to her. She took it, biting the intense pounding in her head and forcing her unwilling muscles to cooperate as she hauled herself up. The pain was becoming almost too much to bear, but she clenched her teeth and heaved herself forward until she was finally in a sitting position, already out of breath.

"You alright?" The doctor asked, taking a step back.

"Fine," she insisted.

"C'mon, don't give up on me now, girlie."

She groaned, twisting her body around until she was facing the hallway. The Doc hurried in front of her, ready to steady her if the dizziness became too much. Blinking against the harsh light of the bulb overhead, she continued to bite the pain and shake off the overwhelming disorientation, slowly putting one foot on the floor. Then the other.

Her muscles screamed and shook as she shifted her weight onto both legs and gripped the doctor's hand with the rest of her strength. Dark spots danced across her vision; sweat rolled off her bare skin as she lifted herself off the bed. She wobbled. Steadied herself.

And she stood.

"Well I'll be damned," the doctor breathed. "Ain't that somethin'."

Brianna's stomach heaved. Her line of sight tilted drastically. She didn't realise that her body had been close to following suit until she felt the doctor pulling at her hand to keep her upright.

"Alright, this way now."

He guided her towards the living room, only a few paces away. The trip proved difficult enough with her trembling legs, but eventually they reached it. It was much the same as the room behind her, with a few tidy bookshelves lining one wall. A couple of busted old chairs surrounded an oddly shaped wooden table with rounded corners. A similar chair sat in the middle of the room, positioned to face a long, lime-coloured couch just a bit ahead. A small end table stood between the two seats, stacked with notebooks and pencils.

"C'mon," the doctor encouraged. "Get yourself sittin' down there and we'll all be laughin'. C'mon, that's it."

Before she knew it, her feet were brushing against the red carpet in the centre of the living room. The couch was just a few paces ahead. She wobbled, head swimming as she reached out to find purchase on the couch's arm. She allowed herself to fall down on the seat, burying her head in her hands and groaning.

She could hear the doctor's footsteps as he sat himself down opposite her. "By God, girlie, that ain't somethin' you see every day."

"I figured that," she mumbled.

"Alright, alright. I guess I'll be lettin' you stay here for the rest of the day. Can't imagine you have the strength to make it back to the other room?"

She shook her head.

"Alright then. Now, I just have some questions here." He began to pull out a couple of pages from his notebook. "Nothin' too stressful, I assure you. Just a few statements, and I want you to tell me if you agree or disagree."

"What's this for?"

"I just need to get some idea of your personality."

"By 'personality' do you mean 'mental health'?"

"Nah, nothin' quite so fancy."

"Guess that's alright."

"Okay, first one: _Conflict just ain't in my nature."_

"No opinion."

_"I ain't given to relying on others for support."_

"No opinion."

_"I'm always fixin' to be the centre of attention."_

"No opinion."

The doctor frowned and set his papers aside. "Girlie, I'm gonna need you to take this seriously. There isn't anything you're hiding, is there?"

"I just rose from the dead, Doc, I don't wanna sit here and answer a bunch of stupid questions."

"Look, this is a psychologically-based test designed to check for any signs of mental health issues and to give some indication of your emotional well-being." He held up the papers for her inspection. "These are rewrites from a few medical books I managed to find. I'm not sayin' there's anythin' wrong with y', but you did just get shot in the head. Thought it would be best to look for signs of anxiety, panic disorder or Post Traumatic Stress. Understand?"

"Seriously? All from a few stupid questions?"

"That's right."

"Fine. Disagree, agree, disagree. Continue."

"Thank you. _I'm slow to embrace new ideas."_

"Disagree."

_"I charge in to deal with my problems head-on."_

"Agree."

_"I always think about myself before I consider others."_

"Agree."

"Now, isn't that telling?"


	2. Back in the Saddle

**GOODSPRINGS**

**JULY 16**

**21:34**

Teeth clenched in agony. Heart pounding. A groan of exertion and doubled vision.

Pain.

Another step. Another step. Another step. Another step.

"That's it, girl, steady now. Slowly does it."

She took another step. Wobbled. Steadied herself. Took a breath, made herself focus. The blood rushing through her head deafened her to the doctor's words of encouragement. She didn't need them. _Focus. _Another step. A sharp pain in her head. She stumbled. She gritted her teeth. She cursed like a goddamn sailor and dug her nails into the palms of her hands, but she didn't stop. She focused.

_Almost there._

"Few more steps now, doll. C'mon, don't give up on me."

She didn't care about him. No. Bathroom. The thought of washing off the blood and grime that clung to her was blissful. Finally, a break from being stuck on a couch all day, doodling on the back of the doctor's medical books and vomiting up the food he offered her. The monotony of recovery was driving her crazy. Her memory was in tatters - at times she was too groggy and drugged to recall her own name. She tested herself constantly, writing and rewriting the names of her family, her friends, the places she'd been. She made herself a timeline, recording every delivery she'd ever made in chronological order. She drew maps until her brain became too cloudy to concentrate. Then her drawings devolved into angry cartoons that the doctor frequently chuckled at. Nothing was helping; nothing was getting better. She needed her own private place to think.

She was so close now, close enough to reach out her arm and run her hand along the door frame. Another step and she was in the hallway, closing her hand around the door handle ahead of her. Despite her exhaustion, she was unable to suppress a wide grin of pride.

_I made it._

"Well, I'll be damned, girlie!" The doctor guffawed, giving his thigh a hearty slap. "You head on in there. Take as much time as y' need!"

And with that he hobbled off, chuckling to himself as he disappeared into his office. Brianna stopped for a moment to breathe before pushing the door open, revealing the bathroom at last. She knew it was nothing special, but at the same time it was the most amazing thing in the world. A shiny porcelain sink lay to her right, with a pristine glass mirror hanging just above it, tied to a nail which had been loosely hammered into the wall. Next to it was the cleanest toilet she had ever seen, with the bathtub positioned along the wall opposite her. Looking around, she could see not the faintest smudge marking a single white tile. There wasn't so much as a smear of dried blood or vomit from raiders who had passed by long before.

_It's actually clean._

Moving to the toilet was another test of will, but there was no way she could wrestle off her underwear standing up. She sank down onto the cool porcelain lid and carefully removed her bra. The realisation of what precious little she was wearing became a psychical pain in her gut. Black frills and lace trims made for sexy adornments, but she cringed nonetheless. Lying unconscious in the office of an unfamiliar doctor in a strange town was bad enough, but having to go through it in lingerie was just unfair.

God, if only lingerie was the worst of her problems.

To Brianna's unexpected joy, the spotless tub even came with its own plug. After her near-death experience, the thought of not having to shove her panties down a plug hole brought with it a strange kind of delight. She even found herself beaming as she twisted the taps, watching the crystalline water gush out. It didn't take long for the steam to rise.

Straightening herself, she glanced around the room in search of something to occupy herself with as she waited for the bath to fill. And then she found it.

The mirror.

Now was as good as time as any to face her own reflection, she figured, swallowing down her fear of the disfigured mess that waited for her. For a few minutes, she did nothing but stare at the taps. She hummed a song, tapped it out on the edge of the sink. Assured herself that her face didn't matter that much as long as she was still alive to see it. Decided that she wouldn't bother looking in the mirror at all. Then she dragged her gaze upwards and found her own face staring back at her.

_Thank God._

The doctor had cleared the blood from her half-shut eye, but it remained rimmed with spots of blue and yellow. Other than that - and the bandage around the left side of her head - there were no drastic changes. Her cheekbones where as high and pronounced as they always had been and the line of her jaw was only lightly bruised. Her nose was very much the same, short and pointed with the lightest hint of freckles smattering its bridge. Her dark hair was matted and tangled, her face slick with excess oil and sweat.

She looked alive. She looked fantastic.

But there was still the bandage to consider. And the bullet hole, if one remained. Hesitantly, she pressed two fingers against the bandaged side of her head, expecting to feel at least a soft depression where the bullet had torn away the skin and bone, but she found nothing out of the ordinary. Somehow the doctor had managed to restore her skull. That fact might have offered her some comfort were it not for the ugly mess lingering behind the bandages. He could attempt to reassure her all he liked, but she knew too damn well that an injury like that would leave a mark just as painful.

Those bitter thoughts were soon shaken from her head when she glanced at the bathtub and found it full of hot, steaming water. Her heart fluttered, and for the first time since her eyes had opened she actually felt awake. The bath was a small thing to look forward to, but it was something. Something was all she needed. With a final satisfied glance in the mirror, she moved towards the tub and climbed in, cursing in pain when her feet touched the hot water. After a few moments of uncertainty, she lowered herself in. The heat was perfect. Every ache, every sting seemed to dissipate with the rising steam. Turning off the taps left her with blissful silence. She was warm from the inside, out.

It was hard resisting the urge to dunk her head down into the water. She would kill for the chance to rinse away the grease and grime that clung to her hair, but it was enough for now to simply lie back and soak. She couldn't stay at rest for long, though. She knew that. There was still the pressing issue of her would-be murderer. Who he was, where she could find him. Did she want to find him? Why? It was time to put the details together, regain her memories now that the pain in her head had died down to a manageable throb.

A man in a chequered suit had shot her. That, for now, was the only fact she had. But why? It could only have been because of the package. She'd spent all day mentally retracing her steps, trying to figure out what went wrong. The job had started off as gossip. Word on the street was that Mr. House needed a very unusual, very high-paying delivery. Six couriers, they said, but just one item of importance. Courier Six was on the waiting list. Courier Six was her. So she laughed at the sky and scraped together her meagre savings to buy a pistol, a jacket, and a pair of boots. She would march down to the Mojave Express in Primm to pick up that package, and she would do so in lingerie and a trenchcoat if she had to. And wasn't that just what had happened?

_Yes._

Memories flickered behind her eyes, forming themselves in the steam that rose around her. She saw herself in Vegas. _Lights, music, satin sheets, faceless men, leather skirt, spilled drinks. _She'd been in the Mojave for a while, but this was her first trip to Vegas. She won big at the tables. Got too bold and too drunk. Ran into some guys with baseball bats. _Broken, lost, drinking, dancing, strange men, empty purse. _They'd taken everything from her. Left her desperate, willing to do anything for the money to go home, wherever that was. She found a job. A private escort, they told her. The money was dirt and the work was degrading but it got her through the night. Sometimes. Things got even worse after she left. The men she passed on the roads, they thought she was a gift from the Lord above. A woman dumb enough to face the wasteland in lingerie and nothing but it? She was just asking for a good fucking, wanted or not. Brianna thought they were just asking for a bullet in the kneecap, so that was what she delivered.

But what had the package been? What was so important that five other dud items needed to be carried along with it?

What was so important that a man would kill for it?

_It's a poker chip, darlin'._

Hell, that was right. The man who shot her, she remembered him saying just that. A platinum poker chip. But platinum wasn't worth dirt nowadays, and that didn't explain the payout for the delivery. There was something more to this. How did her killer know where she'd be, who she was? She remembered tattoos, leather jackets. A gang of some sort, travelling with the shooter. Might have just been raiders, but this crime seemed a little too organised for wasteland rabble. She shuddered at the thought of the Great Khans being involved. Regardless of the current state of their tribe, the Khan's presence would mean serious business. She couldn't know for certain, but the brightly dyed mohawks and tribal tattoos just reeked of Red Rock Canyon.

She closed her eyes and concentrated harder. The doctor said she'd been buried. She could vaguely recall the presence of a shovel on the hilltop. Yes, it had to have been on a hilltop. She could still see the moon looming over the hill, hear the scrape of the shovel against the sand. This was all too convenient for a random attack. Had the shooter done this before, killed the other couriers too? Did her killer know for certain that the platinum chip was valuable, or had he stolen from all six of them just to make sure? Had the chip been a dud? Did it matter? Why would anybody go to those lengths to steal a piece of-?

_And this little thing? It's gonna change the whole world._

It could be tech, she supposed. A kind of digital key or a holotape. Or maybe the guy was a raving lunatic hopped up on Mentats. How the hell could she know whether the guy had just gathered up his raider friends and started having delusions about Brianna and the Magic Poker Chip?

She shut her eyes and blew out a sigh. She had to do something. Anything. That job would mean huge money for her. It could get her back to Zion. But this was more than just going home. This guy had tried to _kill _her. She'd been shot and buried under a pile of sand. That bastard, whoever he was, had quickly made things personal by not getting the job done right. How would she even go about finding him? Maybe she'd already lost her chance.

She stayed in the bathtub until the water grew cold, after scrubbing every reachable inch of herself with a bar of soap. She'd almost gagged at the smell of her own skin, not content until she'd cleaned away even the dirt behind her fingernails. With a groan, she yanked the plug out and got to her feet, spying a towel hanging from a rack by the sink. As she got busy with drying herself, she spotted a small blue pile sitting by the door. A pair of boots were resting on top along with a pair of socks. Wrapping the towel loosely around herself, Brianna stepped out of the bath and retrieved the garment. A light shake was enough to unfold it, revealing a lightly wrinkled blue jumpsuit. A large number twenty-one was printed on the back. A vault jumpsuit.

Fantastic.

The clothes fit well enough, only a little tight in places. She pulled on the socks and clunky black boots, leaving the place with a noticeable spring in her step. Somehow, miraculously, she had survived her own murder with only minor injuries. Soon the pain in her head would dull and fade, and she could finally go about finding that scumbag Benny.

She froze.

"Holy shit."

Calling out for the doctor, Brianna sped down the hallway and looked through every door until she found him sitting at the kitchen table, a mug in one hand.

"A man named Benny," she began breathlessly. "Gelled hair, chequered suit, probably from Vegas. Know anything?"

The doctor looked at her blankly for a moment. "This is about-?"

"Do you know him?"

He scowled. "Now, girlie, if you wanna get better I would suggest that you don't go runnin' 'round askin' too many questions, alright? 'Least not for a while. I didn't see him and I-" He paused. "Fine, fine. Might as well go out and ask some folks in the town. I'm sure old Victor'll know something, at least. Be good to get you out for some fresh air, clear your head a little bit."

"Sounds great!" She forced a grin. "Be nice to get to know everyone."

* * *

><p>It wasn't much of a town, really - just a number of shoddy buildings dotted around a wide stretch of nowhere. The doctor's wooden bungalow was situated high atop a hill overlooking the settlement. From here she could see a few barren pastures with a number of bighorners grazing from whatever weeds that had sprouted in the sand. The houses themselves looked inhabited but barely maintained. Each claimed their own rusted mailbox displaying assorted junk, mostly old magazines and useless trinkets that winked beneath the silvery rays of moonlight.<p>

Gulping down the crisp night air eased the thumping in her head as she made a beeline for the ugly brown buildings at the edge of the town. Light spilled out from the largest of the three, which boasted a neon sign displaying _Prospector's Saloon._ It was only when her feet hit the creaking porch that she noticed the wooden chair - and the man sitting in it - rocking steadily back and forth. He barely lifted his head to acknowledge her, grumbling out something that was only just intelligible.

"Some nasty business up on that hill."

"Sure was," she agreed, pushing open the door.

For a moment, she couldn't comprehend the thumping agony swelling in her brain, so painful it was almost a physical thing. She wasn't sure why she was staring at a ceiling fan, or why a crushing weight was pressing down on her chest. Her nostrils were assaulted by the hot stench of sour breath, and the bark that followed was enough to blur the edges of her vision as her nerve endings pulled themselves apart. A guttural growl rang in her ears. She clinged to the soft voice in the distance, just as she clinged to consciousness. She'd heard it somewhere before, when she wasn't spiralling into disorientation.

"Cheyenne, back!"

The weight was lifted from her chest and she could breathe again, vaguely aware of the arms pulling her up as she stumbled back against the door.

"I am so, so sorry!"

She didn't have to look up to know that the voice belonged to Sunny Smiles, as her dog padded towards its master with a happy bark.

"What the hell?!" Brianna demanded, swallowing her urge to vomit over the leather boots her gaze was fixated on.

"Sorry," Sunny repeated. "You should've knocked."

"It's a saloon!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Cheyenne's a big sweetheart, but she's nervous around strangers. She just got a little spooked."

"It's fine," she grumbled, returning to her senses. "Just a little on edge. Bullet, head, hilltop, you know how it is."

Sunny's expression brightened immediately. "No problem! And don't worry - she won't bite unless I tell her to."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She beamed. "Great. So now that you're on your feet again - and I'm super glad that you are - how do you fancy taking me up on my offer? I know it's late, but nothing passes time better than a couple of sarsaparillas and a little-" She ended the sentence with a couple of vocal gunshots and a wave of her finger-pistols.

"You know, I don't think I've ever turned down a pretty girl before," Brianna smiled. "Don't think a bullet in the head could change that."

"Then follow me," Sunny beamed.

* * *

><p>Needless to say, Sunny's garden did not live up to its name. Other than a few dying patches of weeds and shrubbery dotted here and there, the small strip of land consisted of nothing but sand and dirt, separated from the rest of the town by an old picket fence. A long wooden bench stood at the end of the so-called garden, supporting a neat little row of empty sarsaparilla bottles.<p>

"Here, you can borrow my rifle. Hasn't seen any action for a while."

Brianna stooped down to retrieve it off the ground, taking a moment to feel its shape and weight. It didn't feel like the rifles she was used to - this one was probably designed for fending off the lowest creatures on the wasteland's food chain. She crouched down to meet the height of the bottles, lining up her sights and taking aim.

"Cobb's been sending his little gang out to patrol the town," Sunny said, as the first shot went off. "Not much reason behind it. I think they're just trying to unnerve us enough that we freak out and, well, you know the story. Poor Ringo's still hiding in the gas station, scared out of his mind."

"They looking for him or something?" She asked. "Why? Who is he?"

"No one special. Not someone who deserves to be tormented by a bunch of thugs, anyway. But they shot down his caravan, killed everyone but him. He thinks he must've killed someone important to them when he was trying to fight back. Hey, are you alright?"

"Fine," she replied quickly, lining up another shot and attempting to steady her hands.

"Y- you can stop if you want," Sunny stammered. "God, what was I thinking? I shouldn't have asked you to come here, it was stupid. I mean, I know gunshots aren't the cheeriest of sounds, but I should've known it would be worse for you. Sorry."

"Hey, it's fine," Brianna assured, giving her a bright smile to prove her point. "I'm having fun."

She fired, the recoil slamming against her shoulder and catching her slightly off-guard.

"If you're sure. You're not a bad shot, you know. I bet you've taken down worse than sarsaparilla bottles, right?"

"Buy me a drink and I'll tell you stories you wouldn't believe."

"Sounds like a plan! C'mon, let's head back in. I bet Trudy's dying to meet you."

* * *

><p>She wasn't. From the moment the pair returned to the Prospector's Saloon, all conversations fell silent and every eye in the bar was on her. Brianna narrowed her eyes at a young woman in a straw hat who looked at her with open-mouthed astonishment. She supposed it made sense that people would be intrigued by her. Dying to bombard her with questions, probably.<p>

... Or not.

The bar was almost entirely deserted except for a couple of locals playing a card game, and a straw-hatted old man enjoying a whiskey from the corner of the room. The barmaid - presumably Trudy - was wiping a glass from behind the bar, shooting an irritated glance in the newcomer's direction.

Brianna made her way towards the counter and sat herself down on one of the bar stools. Every one was empty, so she could take her pick. She looked at the sour-faced barmaid expectantly for a moment, but even as Sunny sat down next to her, Trudy pretended not to notice. "I'll have a beer," she said. "Sunny's covering it."

The atmosphere went from awkward to hostile in a matter of seconds. The barmaid slammed her palms down on the counter and leaned forwards until her face was inches from Brianna's own. "You listen to me," she spat, her voice wavering but otherwise cold and filled with contempt. "I don't want you here. This little town has had enough trouble lately, and we certainly don't need a stranger like yourself to come waltzing in with more funny business."

"Funnily enough, I was a little too close to death to come waltzing in anywhere."

"You best get outta my saloon and outta this town right and quick, missy," the woman warned, "because by the looks of you, you're nothin' but trouble. Now I don't know what happened up there on that hill but-"

"Exactly. You _don't_ know. And I'm gonna tell you just where we stand. I'm a courier, and I'm thirsty. You're a barmaid. So why in the ever-loving _fuck _haven't you brought me a drink yet?"

"You ungrateful little bitch!" She screamed. "Giving this town even more grief than it deserves! Mitchell spent every night making sure you didn't die_,_ and Sunny's been all too good with her little shooting lessons, skipping in here and babbling on and on about you and how you're gonna save this town! I'd say some people here are a little too trusting of people like you."

Brianna rose to her feet. "And who exactly are people like me?"

For a moment, she didn't think the barmaid would continue. "People like you get caught up in all kinds of funny business. Drink, caps, chems. I can see it all on you. People like you would gladly walk in here and burn this place down for the sheer damn hell of it!"

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"I know that Cobb hired you!" Trudy's voice trembled when she spoke. "That's exactly what you want, isn't it?! You want to- to gain our trust and then- and then- and then-" Tears spilled down her cheeks. "You're gonna kill us all! Please! Just leave us alone!"

* * *

><p>She couldn't leave the damn place fast enough. A wailing barmaid, a roaring headache was too much for her handle sober. She slammed the door behind her and walked until she could no longer hear the sobbing from the saloon. Whatever that barmaid's problem was, Brianna didn't want to know. It wasn't her place to get involved. She didn't care. There were more important things on her mind.<p>

The cemetery loomed over the town, blotting out the neon lights of New Vegas in the distance. That was where she'd been shot. She recognised it immediately, even from a distance. For whatever reason, she couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that she should go back to the place. Anything was better than going back to the doctor's house for another long night of drawing useless maps, counting dead friends and seeing her killer's face in her sleep.

She continued to walk, tapping her fingers restlessly against her leg until she reached the base of the hill. That was when she began to hear noises. A distant whirring of some sort, followed by the sound of a tire rolling over asphalt. Her right hand tensed on her thigh, reaching for a pistol that wasn't there. When she turned around, her eyes widened in alarm. A robot was wheeling towards her.

"Well, howdy partner!" The machine drawled, its tinny voice simulating a lazy cowboy drawl to match the cartoon cowboy face printed on its screen.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Cowboy Victor, at your service!"

"You're Victor?" She asked. The doc had never specified whether her saviour was human. "You didn't, uh, dig me out of a grave by any chance, did you?"

"Indeed I did, little trail hand! And might I say you're lookin' fit as a fiddle!"

"You don't look too bad yourself. Look, I need you to tell me what you saw that night. What happened?"

"Sure thing, partner! Saw you and Fancy Pants up on that hill with those other shifty-lookin' buckaroos. Fancy Pants waved his gun around and clean shot you in the head!"

"Holy shit - really?!"

"Really! I wheeled on over there right and quick to see what the damage was. Fancy Pants and his friends had already skedaddled. Looked like they were in a hurry."

"Fancy Pants? You're talking about the guy in the suit, right?"

"Sure as lack o' rain, partner!"

"Did you see where he was going?" She pressed. "Did he ever show up here, say anything to you?"

"Well, it's funny you should ask, partner. See, I saw him skulking around here a little while before you nearly kicked the bucket. Asking questions, I'd reckon. Probably lookin' to see where you were, where you were goin' and all that. 'Course, you'd never popped your head in before, so he didn't hear much."

Then he must have known she'd be passing through. To be asking questions so near the Mojave Express, that was no coincidence. Still, that information wasn't much help. She knew enough already to guess that this was more than just some random act of violence. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that Benny had been very, very lucky. She would have stayed in Primm that night she was shot, then set off early before anyone could miss her. But there'd been rumours of a shooting on the streets. She'd gotten spooked and taken off.

She wouldn't consider that the victim in Primm might have been another one of House's couriers.

"That's interesting, Victor. Thanks."

* * *

><p>She'd half-expected the sight of her own grave to evoke some kind of emotion, but even the sight of her own blood splattered on the sand just made her feel cold. She hugged herself tightly, suddenly feeling the biting chill against her face as she looked down at the pathetic hole in the ground, thinking ridiculous thoughts. Other than Mr. House, who was still expecting the delivery of the Platinum Chip, would anyone have noticed her absence? Would her parents have woken up one night with a sudden devastating sense that something was wrong? Or would they have continued on like the rest of the wasteland, blissfully unaware that Brianna O'Reilly had been buried in an unmarked grave so far away from home?<p>

A flash of silver shook her from those thoughts. She dragged her eyes from the grave at her feet, moving to retrieve the glimmering object half-buried in the sand. She stooped down to retrieve it, holding it up against the moonlight to get a closer look. It was a lighter. Unusually ornate for such a simple item, engraved with intricate swirling patterns. Custom-made, she decided. Probably expensive. She tucked it in her pocket. Only a stuck-up New Vegas boy with money to burn would own a goddamn designer lighter.

"If he left that behind..."

It took a few minutes of searching amongst the sand, but eventually she found the exact spot where he'd stood. She sank to her knees, suddenly suffocated by the bag over her head. She remembered the raw itch against her skin, the burning of ropes from where they'd bound her hands together.

_"Take the bag off. __Let's see if our birdie's gonna sing for us." _

She could see the man who'd been standing next to him, leaning against the shovel that had buried her. Red hair, bearded, with a bandana around his head. And another, a woman. Something purple. Her hair? She'd handed Benny his gun.

Brianna's hand reached down, fingers closing around the bullet casing. She held it up, squinting to read the engravings marked on it. A nine millimetre Parabellum. Despite herself, the corners of her lips twitched upwards. She'd travelled East before, spending time around the Legion camps. On her off days, she had even read some books. She'd spent enough time around Ancient Latin for this word to be familiar.

_"Si vis parcem para bellum."_

_To seek peace, you must prepare for war._


	3. Broken Bottles

**GOODSPRINGS**

**JULY 17**

**01:32**

"You didn't! You didn't!" The old man guffawed, slapping a wrinkled hand down on the table as his shoulders shook with laughter. Unbeknownst to him, the contents of his last bottle had already been spilled over his lap and his straw hat had somehow found its way across the bar, leaving nothing to conceal the shiny baldness of his head. Since this was the third time he'd asked Brianna to tell the story that never failed to draw tears, the prospector was, she decided, way too drunk to care.

"Sure did!" The courier grinned from across the table, kicking her feet up and tipping back her head for a long drink. "Shot his balls clean off before he could take another step! Poor bastard never knew what hit him!" She laughed, perfectly happy to relive her hilarious first sniping lesson. Besides, it was only her third drink, anyway, it wasn't like she had anything to worry about. No. No, wait. Was this her fourth-? No, fifth. Definitely. But then she'd done those shots and-

_Pffft, whatever. I aimn't drunnk._

Another chorus of laughter erupted from the bar. Looked like everyone was listening in on the conversation. Apparently word had spread fast about her recovery, and most folks wanted to know exactly what had happened to her underneath the stirring rumours of the shooting. She didn't want to tell the story and had absolutely no intention of ever doing so, but the locals didn't seem to mind. A cheap joke or two and a few bottles later, everyone was having the time of their lives. Or at least, everyone except for Trudy. She served their drinks in sullen silence, chuckling to herself at the occasional lame joke.

Excluding the surly barmaid, the residents of Goodsprings had proven themselves to be surprisingly good drinking buddies after they'd knocked back a few, if not somewhat indistinguishable from each other in the way they dressed. In straw hats and blue overalls, no one particularly stood out, with the exception of one or two. The cackling old man who sat across from Brianna called himself Easy Pete, because he was a prospector. She wasn't sure how the name and profession were linked, but no one else seemed to care. She'd also shared a drink or two with Chet, a gun fanatic who owned the general goods store next door. He'd spoken to her once - something about a semi-automatic pistol - before moving to the end of the bar to enjoy a 'cigarette' by himself. The foggy green haze surrounding him suggested otherwise, so she made a mental note to join him again before the night was over.

"Hey, sweetie?" Sunny's voice was just audible as the laughter died down. "Don't you think you should be heading back now?"

"I'm not drunk yet, grandma." She stretched over the table and grabbed a half-empty bottle of whiskey from under the oblivious prospector's nose. "I wanna dance," she decided with a giggle. "You wanna dance with me?"

"Maybe another time. Look, hun, you gotta think of your health, okay? Y'know, you almost-"

Brianna took a deep drink from the bottle before slamming it down on the table. "You are not my fucking momma_, _okey-dokey? I don't even _know _you."

"I'm just trying to help," Sunny defended. "You know, I've been really nice to you and you're still being an asshole. Every since you got here I-"

"Oh shut the _fuck _up!" She groaned. "Like I give a _shit _about-"

The words were barely out of her mouth before another voice shot stabbing pains through her skull. "You, enough! Out!"

_Oh, for the love of-_

Trudy swiped the bottle away from her lips before she could take another drink. Looking up, she found the angry barmaid staring down at her, arms folded. She seemed to have recovered from the psychotic episode that had brought her to tears, but that only served to make her even angrier off with the loud-mouthed newcomer who had caused it. Trudy drew herself up like an indignant mother gecko and pointedly cleared her throat.

Brianna got to her feet. The corners of her vision were blurry. Everything seemed to move slowly, drunkenly, as she leaned against the booth for support. Oh, right. She _was _drunk. That would explain why slamming her fists into this woman's scowling face seemed like such a wonderful idea.

So she hurled a right hook into Trudy's jaw, deaf to the building commotion around her. The blow nearly threw the barmaid off her feet. Her face was a mask of poorly hidden disbelief as she struggled to regain her footing. The bar grew still, hushed in anticipation. With a polite smile, Brianna turned to exit the bar in all of her stumbling, staggering triumph.

An invisible force from behind grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and threw her sideways against the bar table. There was screaming and silence as she collided with the hardwood, ribs cracking and bile burning the back of her throat. Her vision swam and her head span and everything was a blur of colour and confusion.

Somehow she managed to regain her footing just as another blow collided with the left side of her head. The fireflies zipping behind her eyes exploded into stars, consuming what remained of her doubling vision. The persistent ringing in her ears swelled into a piercing scream, deafening her to the sound of her body hitting the floor. The pain was excruciating. It was fire, searing away her body and eating at her consciousness until she was blissfully unaware of Trudy's foot smashing down on her spine.

It was all a blur from then. A screaming voice. Another blow. Stumbling to her feet. Bones cracking. The taste of blood on her tongue, vomit on her lips. Everything was spinning. The shrieking voices were all too far away. The saloon rushed away from her. Angry curses pierced her consciousness. There was sand in her eyes and acid in her veins, and she knew nothing but this.

"Shit," she managed, struggling to brush the dirt and hair out of her face. Hell, it was a challenge to even keep her eyes open at this point. The pain in her head had swollen to a pounding agony where Trudy's fist had connected with her temple - narrowly missing the healing stitches but colliding with the scar tissue that lay beneath her blood-stained bandages. It took some effort, but after a few minutes of drifting in and out of consciousness and vomiting up the contents of her stomach, she finally managed to pull herself to her feet, thinking only of a warm bed and a stimpak to ease the pain.

She groaned, rubbing her eyes and taking her first wobbly step towards Doc Mitchell's. The cold air felt heavenly on her face, taking the stinging edge away from the throbbing in her jaw. It even managed to sober her up just enough so that she wasn't crawling back to the doctor's house. In fact, in a brief moment of clarity, she managed to spot the blurred shadow of- was that a person?

"The hell?" She slurred to no one, taking a few more shaky steps to get a clear view of whatever it was she was looking at. On the hill, just a short distance away from the doctor's house, was an old gas station. It might have displayed the Poseidon logo, but the words were difficult to make sense of. She could just make out a shadow emerging from the door of the dilapidated building, the faintest outline of a man.

Her right hand began to grasp at her thigh while the other held her aching head. As much as she would love to confront a mysterious figure with a pounding headache and her blood swimming in alcohol on a freezing cold night after getting her head kicked in by a screaming barmaid, she decided against it. She was too blurry. Too sleepy. So she left the gas station behind her, wanting only to-

A soft _click _and cold metal was shoved against her temple.

"Kindly don't move, missy, or I _will_ shoot you. You ain't one of those powder fucks, are ya? Don't lie!"

"Put the gun away," she hissed, the words catching in her throat. "Just- just put it away."

"You'd best answer me right now, miss, and we'll see how things turn out."

"What do you want from me?!"

"You're working with Cobb, aren't you? You one of his whores?"

"What?! I don't know what the hell you're talking about! I just got shot in the head!"

There was a long, decisive moment of silence.

"Wait a second." The stranger moved to face her directly, still aiming the gun at her head, but with a visible air of uncertainty now. "You're _her._ You're that woman. But you're-"

"Dead? Not quite."

"But you-"

"Yes, I got shot in the fucking head!" She snapped. "You gonna make me relive that experience? Because I am drunk and I am angry and if you're gonna shoot me, make sure you shoot me dead. I already have one asshole to track down because he couldn't get the job done right."

He looked at her for a moment before returning the pistol to its holster. "Sorry about that. I'm a little on edge, in case you couldn't tell." She could. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark lines, constantly darting around the area as if searching for something in the distance, and never stopping to meet her own for long. "I'm getting real tired of lookin' for shadows."

"Yeah? Well, I'm getting real tired of being threatened by assholes with pistols."

"Look, I'm sorry about that," he insisted, as she started towards the doctor's house. "It's getting real hard to sit comfortably with those Powder Gangers skulking around here, and you did strike me as a-"

"Whore?"

"That was out of line, I know. Just stay for a bit, maybe we can help each other out. Or at least let me make my situation clear to you. I feel bad."

"Makes two of us."

She stopped and turned on her heels to look at him. He was a handsome guy for certain, with shiny brown hair nearly parted to one side. His chequered shirt was neatly pressed and buttoned, his jeans tightly belted. He looked like a merchant or caravaneer, though of a more polished pedigree

"Aren't you gorgeous?"

He huffed out an irritated sigh. "I'll choose to ignore that comment, considering you're under the influence. Look, I- I just- fuck, I don't know."

"You're just dying for me to ask, aren't you? Alright, what's the problem? Why are skulking around in the middle of the night and what do you expect me to do about it? Wait. You're, uh, Ringo, right?"

"Sure am. Ringo Hendricks. And those Powder Gangers, they know I'm here, alright? They want me dead. Managed to take out a few of their boys when my caravan got attacked. Jessie and Laura, they didn't make it. I managed to get away, though. And now they ain't gonna stop terrorising this town 'til they get what they want. Me, that is. Guess I killed someone important to them."

"Then you're not in the easiest of situations. Look, I'm gonna put this as bluntly as I can. I don't wanna help you. I already got shot in the head. It hurts like a bitch, and I don't know who the fuck you are. Unless you can offer me something, then I'm afraid you're out on your ass here."

"Fair enough. I work for the Crimson Caravan Company. Came into some work before the caravan was wiped out and I managed to carry out some of the leftover payment. If you can help me-"

"Right. And you want me to do... what?"

"I'd be happy with anything you can do. There's no way I'm getting out of this without a fight. Sunny Smiles has been wonderful, but I don't think she's gonna challenge these guys without a little persuasion. It's just that nobody else seems willing enough to give her some encouragement. Besides you, maybe."

"You're gonna pay me to convince Sunny Smiles to fight for you?"

"I guess you could say I'm desperate. And you, well, doesn't look like I'll be convincing you to do it for free."

She grinned. "Brianna O'Reilly, at your service."

"Thank you, Brianna. Thank you kindly."

"Pleasure."

And with that, Ringo Hendricks tipped his imaginary hat to her and walked off, leaving her alone once again on the hilltop.


	4. Ghost Town Gunfight

**GOODSPRINGS**

**JULY 17**

**10:21**

The drinking hadn't been a good idea, as she'd already figured out. The pounding in her skull was tremendous, hitting with full intensity when she tried to pull herself up from the toilet bowl. The heavy taste of vomit at the back of her throat made her gag, and the sight of her face in the mirror fuelled her nausea even further. An ugly purple bruise had formed along her jawline, staining the surrounding area with blotches of yellow and green. The colour of the Mojave was gone from her complexion, leaving her face so pale it was almost skeletal. A dark pool had formed beneath one eye, the other concealed by bandages now thick with sand and grime.

With a great deal of effort, she managed to stay upright long enough to exit the bathroom, wondering if she could slip into the fridge and grab a bite to eat without waking up the doctor. The last thing she needed was a lecture from the old man, and being kicked out on her ass sounded even less enjoyable. After that, curling up in a secluded corner for a while sounded wonderful. If she could just quietly step-

"What in Sam Hill?"

_Shit._

Mitchell was already up, sitting at the kitchen table with a half-empty plate of fried mantis legs for company. "And where exactly were you, missy?"

She leaned back against the door frame when she felt herself wobbling.

"No need to say anythin'," he continued, straightening himself up and folding his arms. "Sunny told me all about it. What exactly are you tryin' to prove by destroyin' your own damn health, Miss O'Reilly?"

"Can we just drop it, please?"

"No, we can't. You think I spent all that time fixin' you up-"

"Look, Doc, there's nothing else you can do for me! You've patched me up, stopped me from bleeding out in your office, fixed up my skull, and I swear to God, I'll be grateful for that for the rest of my life. But I don't know what else you think you're gonna do to make me better. Sorry to disappoint, but this is as good as it-"

"Well, that's just perfect. Fantastic! You consider yoursel' all better, so away with ya. Go on - out!"

"What?"

"You've done nothin', _nothin' _for this town since you came here. And I would be fine with that, considerin' you're recoverin' from a deadly injury, but you insist on doin' nothin' but cause trouble for all of us. So just leave already. I put a lot of time into makin' sure you recovered, missy, and this is how you repay me?"

"Look, you don't understand. I don't have anywhere to go. Just give me a day so I can-"

"Why? So you can cause me even more grief?"

"Doc-"

_"_No. I'm done with you, girl. Out."

* * *

><p>She stood at the edge of town without any idea of where she was headed. She couldn't look at the road ahead without feeling like her lungs were deflating. Where the hell could she go from here? Her best bet was New Vegas, which was the very last place she wanted to be. And what exactly would she do when she got there? Benny was almost certainly from one of the Families - no one just waltzed up to a Chairman for no goddamn reason, not unless they wanted a bullet in their brain. Even if she could find him, what then? Was she just going to politely ask him for her extremely valuable Platinum Chip? What about the credit check in Freeside? How would she round up two thousand caps just to get inside the city?<p>

"Hey, Brianna! You! You coward!"

The thundering voice was enough to kick her back into reality. She whizzed around just as it hit her again. "I thought you were gonna help! You promised him! And for once, for once in my whole life I decided to put my complete faith in someone, and now you're just gonna leave us?! When this town is the reason you're still alive?!"

Sunny Smiles slammed her weight into Brianna's chest, shoving her back. Her glare was venomous, her words even more so. "Ringo told me everything! He said you were gonna help him, and now you're running away? After all we've done to help! How could you?!"

"What the hell is your problem now? First you decide you want me out of here, then you realise you're fucked without me?"

"What? Look, I tried to stop Trudy, alright? I did! But you were drunk and angry and maybe Trudy got a little bit out of hand, but Doc Mitchell said-"

"That I should get out of town before I cause him any more grief, so that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Wait, what?" She visibly deflated. "Look, I didn't tell the Doc anything, I promise. You were just trying to fight back, and Trudy isn't really-"

"Get to the point."

"Okay, okay. The Doc told me that you were leaving to get away from the business with the Powder Gangers. He said you didn't wanna help, and that you didn't wanna get involved, so I thought-"

"Bullshit. He threw me out."

Sunny nodded slowly, seeming to suddenly realise the answer to an unasked question. "I- I think he wanted you gone before-" She took a deep breath. "We have two hours, Brianna. Cobb came into the bar earlier, it was just me, Mitchell and Trudy. And that's it. Said we have 'til noon before him and his friends come in here and take over. We either sit down and let them or-" Her voice cracked. "He didn't want you getting us in trouble, starting a fight. He thought you'd try to help us. And you will, won't you? You have to. Even if you can't fight, we need to gather people and get supplies and I'm sorry, but I can't do this by myself. Please?"

Two hours. Her fingers drummed against her thigh as this whirlwind of information whizzed around her brain. She owed this town something, right? And without those caps that Ringo promised, she'd be starving in the wasteland after a few days. But it wasn't just that. What better way to get back on her feet than to kickstart her recovery with a gunfight? It was perfect. She could talk to Chet about gathering up some weapons, ask Easy Pete about that dynamite stash he'd mentioned last night. If Sunny could get Trudy to round up some people from the saloon, Brianna could ask the doctor to offer up some medical supplies, convince him that this was their only way out. Maybe - just maybe - she could turn Goodsprings into an armed militia before one broke down their doors.

Maybe.

"I don't know if I like that look on your face," Sunny said. But she smiled.

* * *

><p>"My latest stock?!" The store owner cried, the scraping nasal tones of his whining voice doing very little for Brianna's intensifying headache. Five minutes inside Chet's pathetic excuse for a store was enough to make Brianna want to tear her hair out. She didn't want to hear about scopes and mufflers and extended magazines. She didn't care about how terribly the QSZ-92 performed compared to his newest MP-30 Colt, and she certainly did not give a damn about the ZM-87 coming with a half-priced silencer and dual laser splitter when you bought a hundred extra rounds from the Gun Runners' arsenal. And yet, from the moment she put her foot through the door, that kind of crap was all she could hear spewing from this guy's mouth. She needed guns. Working guns, fully loaded, but apparently that was too much to ask for.<p>

"We're talking about a two thousand cap investment here," he continued, staying seated behind the counter so he could polish his newly painted assault rifle. He even avoided her gaze as she tried to bargain with him, instead focusing on the weapon and gazing at it lovingly, face aglow with deep admiration. He looked into the barrel with the same fiendish delight as a man peering through a keyhole into a woman's changing room. She felt the harsh taste of chemicals on her tongue from the excessive polish and wondered just how long Chet spent with his guns each day, caressing their holsters and nuzzling their magazines.

_What an asshole._

"I'm gonna make this real simple for you, Chet. Give us the guns and we shoot the Powder Gangers. Don't give us the guns and the Powder Gangers shoot you. Make sense?" She smiled sweetly as the store owner rose from his seat, carefully setting the gun on the counter before finally looking her in the eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to protest.

"Give us your guns, Chet," the courier warned, "or you'll see them blown to pieces by the armed militia that's gonna blow up your store and murder you." She folded her arms across her chest, looking at him expectantly. She dared him to say no, and the daggers in her eyes promised that she wouldn't be taking that for an answer.

"Fine! You can take them! Fifty percent discount!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Seventy five! Eh- eighty!"

"Wrong answer, Chet."

He groaned, placing both hands on the counter and sighing in defeat.

That was all she needed.

* * *

><p>"Your <em>dynamite," <em>she stressed, stretching out every word as slowly as she could. "Buried under the _town."_

Easy Pete shook his head, rocking slowly on his chair outside the saloon. "Nope."

"Why not?!"

"Blow yourself up. Blow your neighbour up."

"Listen, I spent two years dealing with explosives, especially frag grenades and dynamite."

"Blow your friends up. Not gonna tell ya."

"Two years, dammit!"

"Blow your momma up, even."

"But you just light them and throw!"

"Nope. Blow the whole town up. Can't do it."

* * *

><p>"Huh. Looks like I really can't lie worth a damn."<p>

Brianna looked up to see Doc Mitchell leaning against the door frame, arms folded. "Guess Sunny managed to catch up to ya before you headed out. So do I have time for an apology before you waltz out there and get yourself blown up?"

"Doc, just-"

"Just nothing, missy." He scowled. "Now, I have spent a lot of time and effort trying to fix you up and get you up on your feet again, and not for the sake of my own damn health. I didn't pull all those bits of lead outta your brain just so you could get it blown up by Powder Gangers." She opened her mouth to interrupt him, but he persisted. "And this ain't just about your safety neither. Don't you have any respect for the people of this town? For me, after all I've done?" He sighed, shutting his eyes. The old man looked exhausted.

"Then what would be the better option, doc? Handing over an innocent man just so those Powder Gangers can burn this place to the ground anyway? You know what's gonna happen - don't act as if I'm the only one to blame. I can't just walk away, not when I know those convicts are gonna march down here and kill anyone who puts up a fight. You were there when Cobb came around, you know as well as I do that there's no other way out of this. If you want a 'thank you' for saving my life, here it is. This is the only way I know how to say it."

He stepped inside, holding the door open as a signal for her to join him. She did, feeling something close to regret at how she'd yelled at him. She supposed she couldn't blame him for wanting to keep the town safe, even if his attempts had been beyond futile. She made no attempt to voice these feelings as the doctor hobbled off along the corridor to go rummaging through some dusty footlocker on his shelf. After a moment, he produced a large, bulky piece of equipment. "This is the least I can give you in ways of apology," he mumbled, shuffling towards her. "Ever heard of a Pip-Boy?"

_"It was a birthday present. Never thought it would end up saving my life from time to time."_

"Yeah, I have. You, uh, don't really have to-"

"You shush your mouth and take the damn gift," the doctor urged. "My wandering days are past me now, so it won't do me no good. And my wife sure as God can't use it anymore, bless her soul. Besides, it's a pretty useful little gizmo, got all kinds of neat tricks. Got a map, compass, clock, alarm, even recognises whoever's wearing it. It'll scan ya, then look at yer brainwaves and insides or something like that, I dunno. Anyway, it records some information about y' that y' just might find interestin'. Put it on."

She let out a 'huh' of approval and took the gadget from the doctor's hand, slipping it over her wrist. For a split second it felt as if someone had given her a bag of bricks to carry. She felt the metal band tightening around her forearm, heard it lock with a soft click. After adjusting to its weight and bulk, she lifted her arm to see the screen flashing to life, accompanied by a cheery tinkling sound as a bright display of random data appeared, streams of unintelligible code speeding down the screen as it adjusted to being back from the dead.

On the screen now was a grinning cartoon boy, with only a rough body outline detailing his limbs, torso, and head. The screen flickered for a short second before six long, green bars stretched out over the digital cartoon, one for its head, torso, and each of its limbs. They were health bars, she realised with a smile of amusement. She'd seen their like before in a few pre-war video games. It looked like everything was in working order; every bar was entirely full. Even her head, surprisingly.

No. Wait a second.

The bar marking the boy's head began to deplete, leaving it less than half-filled with green. His beaming face changed to one of mild worry.

The doctor watched her with a smile as she played with the dials and figured out the various controls. This thing had everything. She could mark out different areas on the world map - she learned this by sticking a Town marker over her current coordinates and typing in **GOODSPRINGS** - and there was even an entire page for recording inventory. She made a quick note of her current clothing in the **Apparel** section just to test it out. Eventually she found that the most interesting thing was the statistics menu, which proved to be surprisingly - if not alarmingly - accurate.

**BARTER: 60**

**ENERGY WEAPONS: 30**

**EXPLOSIVES: 25**

**GUNS: 85**

**LOCKPICK: 25**

**MEDICINE: 40**

**MELEE WEAPONS: 75**

**REPAIR: 10**

**SCIENCE: 20**

**SPEECH: 75**

**SURVIVAL: 90**

**UNARMED: 80**

The doc scratched his head. "I, uh, took the liberty of fillin' it all in, goin' by those medical forms you filled out. And from everything you've told me about yourself, of course. Wasn't sure if I could give the old thing up, though, otherwise I woulda given it over sooner. Hope everything's accurate and all that."

"Yeah, it's, uh, great. Great."

"You don't look too sure."

"It's fantastic," she assured him. "Thank you."

"Well, if that's everythin' you'll be needing..." He trailed off, testing her reaction. "Nope, 'course not. Now, I really can't shoot worth a damn, but I'll be waitin' here to get y' patched up if things go bad. I'll even spare a few extra stimpaks. Anything I can do, missy."

* * *

><p>The saloon was buzzing with energy, but not the particularly good kind. Angered shouts were coming from most of the villagers who sat around the bar, and caught in the middle of it all was Sunny Smiles, her blonde ponytail the only thing visible over a mass of heads as people continued to file in. Brianna joined them, silent and unnoticed. Until she whipped out her brand new pistol and fired three ringing shots into the ceiling.<p>

_Thank you, Chet._

"Everyone shut the fuck up!" She yelled, silencing the wave of disgruntled voices. No one dared move as they watched the newcomer, predictably with wide eyes and frightened expressions. They probably thought that she was crazy. Maybe that would be a good thing.

"You all know the situation here, right? We have one hour before Cobb and the rest of his little gang march in here and burn this place to the ground. One hour. You can all count, right? And don't play dumb and pretend like it's only Ringo they want. _It ain't._ They want this town and they intend to take it by force. You people can sit here with your thumbs up your asses for as long as you want, but this is happening, no matter what you wanna do about it. Are you really gonna let this town burn because you're too afraid to stand up and fight?!"

"What the hell do you think this is? Some stupid video game?" Someone called. "They'll blow us up!"

"People are gonna die anyway!'' Someone else shot back.

"Not if we hand that guy over!"

"God, you're stupid!"

"Hey!" Sunny yelled, as argument broke out once more. "Can you- no, just- Can you be quiet please?! We really do stand a chance!"

"What the hell would you know?!" A voice yelled back. Sunny didn't falter.

"If you're not up for it, then go. Just leave and-" She shook her head. "No. If you're not up for it, then get out of my sight. Just go. But I hope you feel proud when you walk outta those doors leaving everybody else to fend for themselves! When we kick those Powder Ganger's asses I hope you feel _ashamed_ that you were too busy wiping the shit stains from your panties to defend your own home! We have the supplies, the resources, the skills. Now all we need are people with courage. You all know what the wasteland's like, right? You can't hold onto anything out here unless you're willing to fight for it!"

There was a long silence before a man got to his feet. "This is fuckin' stupid," he spat.

As many as thirty people rose from their seats and joined him, shoving their hands in their pockets and leaving from both doors without a word.

"Cowards," Brianna hissed, eyeing the remaining townspeople. About ten, maybe fifteen of them remained, including Trudy and Easy Pete. Even Chet had fucked off, she noticed. The others looked like farmers or merchants, but most of them at least carried pipes and shovels - some even had guns. Maybe they wouldn't be so hopeless after all, then.

Maybe.

Brianna took advantage of the reduced numbers to take a seat at the bar, furious at the number of spineless assholes that made up the ruined town of Goodsprings.

The voice to reassure her wasn't one that she expected to hear. "I- I support you," Trudy piped. "I think you're doing the right thing. We can't just stand down and let those people take our homes. You're- you're a very, uh, brave woman." God, it sounded like forming the words was a struggle enough for her, but it was enough for Brianna. She got to her feet. "Half an hour, people!" She declared.

"The Powder Gangers are comin' to play."

* * *

><p>They stood boldly at the edge of town, about ten in all, wearing identical blue security armour with red splotches along the hips. Looking through her binoculars, Brianna could see that those were their belts, at least five sticks of dynamite tucked into each one. On the signal of Joe Cobb they began to swagger down the southern road. One twirled a stick of dynamite around in his hand. Others wielded police batons and pistols, beating them against the palms of their hands. It was Cobb himself who led them, his expression stony as he looked around for any sign of opposition.<p>

He found none.

Brianna was positioned next to Sunny behind a large mound of rocks just by the road. The townspeople were hidden in a similar fashion, ducking down behind the saloon and the ancient station wagon across the road. They'd decided that the element of surprise was the best way to proceed, and close-combat would eliminate the Powder Gangers' most significant advantage: dynamite. Every local was dressed up in Chet's latest stock, and those who weren't handy with a gun were equipped with shovels and machetes. They all buzzed with excitement as the enemy drew closer.

Closer.

Closer.

"Now!"

She leapt from behind the rock and unleashed a spray of bullets into the army. She laughed as they fell, one writhing on the ground from a bullet to the shoulder while another collapsed from a shot to the skull. Angry roars swelled amongst the ground as their numbers fell. Before they could take aim, Brianna dived down behind the station wagon across the road.

The wave of fire came just in time as the locals emerged from cover, ushering the gunfight into its bloody climax. Curses and screams emitted from both sides before the sound of gunfire swallowed the rest of the world. Brianna watched as one Powder Ganger fell to the ground, twitching grotesquely, the upper half of his head reduced to a spray of crimson. Another was finished off by a quick shot to the neck. Blood spurted violently outwards from his mouth and ears as he tore at his neck. He fell to his knees and Brianna saw no more of him. His anguished gargle was swallowed by the sound of war.

She reloaded her weapon and stepped out to assess the area. Her plan was looking very successful - the Powder Gangers who strayed from their fellow convicts to light up a stick were quickly shot down. The tight proximity was working to their advantage, much to Brianna's smug satisfaction. From the other side of the road, she spotted Sunny wrestling with her rifle. Brianna's breath hitched in her throat.

It was jammed.

She raced through the crossfire, spinning around when she caught another Powder Ganger heading towards her. She dug her nails into his right arm and planted a hard kick on his shin. He stumbled back. She unholstered her pistol and slammed the butt into the back of his head. Three shots had the next convict choking on his own blood. It wasn't enough. She rushed for his partner, slamming the gun into his skull. Again. Again. Again, until his skull was crushed into a grotesque mass of blood and brain matter.

She barely had time to throw the body aside before the ground rushed up to meet her. A weight was pressing down on her chest, crushing her lungs. Someone was on top of her. A woman. She screamed at the sight of wide, manic eyes. A blonde mohawk. Nails like daggers. A face-splitting grin. And then a shriek. "You'll pay for that! Bitch! You'll fucking pay for that!" She closed her hand around Brianna's throat. She thrashed and screamed and pleaded, but her struggling was futile. The woman retrieved a stick of dynamite from her belt and Brianna's world became a flash of searing pain. The fire behind her eyes was blinding; the woman's laughter grated her skin and the dynamite dug further and further into her bandaged skull, teasing at the stitches and dragging across the healing tissue. Agony disabled every other sense. She couldn't hear the gunshots, the screaming, the sobbing.

She couldn't hear anything but the distant _click _of the lighter.

_"No!"_

The weight was lifted and she could breathe again, but pain kept her on the ground. With blurring vision and useless limbs, there was nothing she could do but lie down and watch as Sunny Smiles tore the dynamite from the Powder Ganger's grip and kicked her down. Her head whipped from side to side as she searched for a safe place to toss the explosive, but the fighting was thick around them and there was no clear area in sight. Brianna wished she could tell her to hurry. She wished she could shut her eyes. She wished she could tell the woman who'd saved her that she was too damn late.

The world exploded into dust and fire.

_Weak with desperation, she slammed her fists against the glass. __She had to help she had to do something anything at all she had to save her she couldn't let her go._

Not again.

Sunny was lying on her back in the dirt, writhing in screaming agony. Her face was covered in blood, features contorted with pain. Brianna forced herself up and rushed to her side, staring helplessly down at the wreckage she'd caused. Sunny maintained a trembling grip on her other hand, legs thrashing as she tried to stop the blood flow. Her skin had turned white and her eyes were screwed shut. The ugly sob of defeat that escaped her greying lips gave Brianna the strength to take action.

"Show me your hand!" She was unable to hide the panic in her voice. "Show me your hand, Sunny!" She grabbed the girl's right hand and tore it away. Her screams swelled in Brianna's ears as the torn extremity was exposed to the air. There was nothing left of it. Nothing but half of a mangled finger on a busted mass of tissue. Blood was already pooling on the sand, scattered by the boots that trampled across it. She wrapped her arms around the dying woman to protect her from the footfall, praying silently that the war would forget them, that no bullets would come their way, that they would rise to the sight of silent peace.

It was too much to ask for, and she knew it.

"Just stay with me, alright? I'm gonna help you, I promise, just- just trust me."

Her knife was holstered at her left thigh. She took it. Cut a large square of leather from the leg of her armour. Turned to the shrieking woman. One long, deep breath. _You've seen this before. _She grabbed the woman's wrist and brought it close to her. With one quick, strong movement she sliced horizontally, forcing herself to ignore Sunny's terrified screams as she wrapped the bleeding stump in leather. She tore the elastic from Sunny's hair. Used it to tie the leather around the stump of her arm. It would only slow the blood flow, but she told herself that it would be enough. Using all of her strength, she Sunny as quickly as she could towards a nearby pile of rocks and laid her down behind it.

Sunny had fallen silent. Her eyelids flickered, but she had only the strength to twitch and mumble incoherently. She already looked like a corpse.

"I'm so sorry."

She got to her feet, unholstering her pistol and leaving Sunny Smiles behind in the dirt. About three Powder Gangers remained, including Joe Cobb himself. She saw Ringo fighting off one with a knife and quickly took her aim. Fired. The man was caught in the back of his neck, an explosion of blood splattering over the vengeful caravaneer. Ringo caught Brianna's eye and nodded his thanks before turning towards another Powder Ganger, skewering him in the neck and saving a group of farmers from a bloody fate. Only Cobb remained, visibly terrified as the victorious townspeople formed a circle around him, each one knowing who this kill belonged to.

Cobb aimed his gun at Brianna and fired.

_Click._

Ringo smirked as he pushed through the widening circle to face the cowering Powder Ganger. Pretty boy Ringo Hendricks wore a smug expression as he shot Joe Cobb in the groin. He went down with a screech of agony, reaching down for something he wouldn't find. Brianna half-expected Ringo to the put the wailing man out of his misery, but he did nothing put spit in his face and kick him in his bleeding crotch before turning to leave him in his agony.

Brianna watched for a few moments as the circle of townspeople yelled their victory, gathering together to kick the remaining life out of the wailing convict leader. It was only when his screams faded into muffled groans that Sunny crossed her mind again. Cursing sharply under her breath, she sprinted across the length of the road to catch up with Ringo, who jumped in surprise when she gripped his shoulder.

"Oh, it's you. Look, I'm sorry you had to-"

"Help her," she pleaded. "She's dying. She's dying. Grace- Sunny, she's-"

He followed her without hesitation, both under the same delusion that maybe there would still be time.


	5. No Place for Compassion

**GOODSPRINGS**

**JULY 17**

**17: 41**

They spent the rest of the day grocery shopping.

After a couple of stimpaks and a bandage replacement, Brianna opted to assist the acrimonious Ringo Hendricks with cleaning up the mess that lay outside. A dozen rotting corpses piled up on the road was a good way to avoid unwanted company, of course, but the locals agreed that it wouldn't be the best way to keep the local trade circulating. And no one wanted to scare off the tourists, of course.

"You look like a little kid on Christmas morning, Miss O'Reilly," Ringo observed as she began to root through the nearest corpse's pants. The body was icy to touch, emitting the acrid stench of shit and decay. She muttered something about bloatflies and bodies to distract herself from the smell, but ended up having to disguise her gagging behind a faked cough.

Five minutes passed and she'd come up with a neat handful of frag grenades, a few ten-millimetre magazines, an old revolver and more dynamite than she desired to count. Most of the loot was useless to her, but it would be a shame to see anything go to waste. Not to mention that a bag full of dynamite could keep her food and water supply going for days if she found the right trader. In the end, she was satisfied with all she'd discovered, dumping her new toys into the rucksack she'd taken from Doc Mitchell's place.

"Corpses don't bite," she said, getting to her feet and tossing the bag over her shoulder as Ringo took another step back.

The pretty caravaneer didn't spare a glance in her direction. His gaze was fixated on the body of Joe Cobb, lying just a short distance from Brianna's feet.

She moved to join him. "Alright, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just can't help but feel a little sad for 'em. They might not have been very good folk, but each human life-"

"No, you were right. They weren't very good folk. They were murderers and worse than that. Rapists, slavers, scum at the bottom of a barrel of sh-"

"You think I don't know that?" Ringo spat. "I didn't wind up hiding in a gas station, scared for my life because we had a little disagreement. They killed my brother. They killed my sweetheart. I don't regret a single damn thing I did to those monsters. All I regret is that it had to be this way, that whatever twisted path they walked turned them into such vicious people."

"Look, I'm not gonna tell you that the paths you walk have nothing to do with who you are. I'm a courier, I know the truth in that. But some people are just fucking evil, nothing to do with where they've been."

"You don't believe that. Don't you have any empathy? Any compassion?"

"Compassion? Fuck compassion. Those bastards tried to blow me up and you saw what they did to Sunny. Compassion doesn't get you anywhere in this place."

Ringo let out a humourless chuckle. "Eloquent as always, but anyone who saw you out here earlier would disagree. You had no reason to help me out, but that's just what you did. You even risked your life for Sunny Smiles, saved her life, and don't you try to tell me that was payment."

She shot him a murderous glare.

* * *

><p>They left the bodies to burn in a ditch just a ways west of town. The act was tremendously satisfying, especially when she came across the body of the psychopath who'd tried to blow her up. Ringo helped her chase off bloatflies until the sky was an immense smudge of grey, the gathering clouds beginning to blot out the setting sun. He walked her back to the doctor's house - "It's the least I can do for such a charming woman" - and thanked her one last time before trekking off to the saloon.<p>

Brianna didn't bother knocking as she slipped inside the door.

"Didn't expect to see you back so soon."

The sudden voice made her jump. Doc Mitchell was standing right in the middle of the hallway as if he'd been waiting for her return.

"Finished cleaning up the bloodbath outside?"

She nodded.

"What was I thinking?" He muttered. "Should never have allowed her. Should never have trusted you in the first place. Now look at what's happened."

"Let's not go round in circles, Doc. You know as well as I do that this wasn't my fault. Go ahead, pretend I was the one who riled up the Powder Gangers, but that isn't gonna help her. Sunny Smiles knew exactly what she was getting into. So did you."

"No. No, I thought you knew what you were doin'. I thought you'd at least have the sense to-"

"Oh, for God's sake. You can't pin all of this on me, Doc! Everything but the nuclear holocaust is _my_ fault, isn't it? Look, I really don't have time for this. I know you're afraid for her, but you know for a fact that if we hadn't stepped up, this entire town would've been blown to hell."

His shoulders slumped. "How do y' do it? Goin' out there, seein' all that hell, how do you do it without findin' someone to blame? Never could let myself believe that the universe just allowed all this to happen. Had to be someone's fault, always someone else. Guess that's why I'm such a bitter old fool." He chuckled humourlessly. "You should go see her. Don't think she's sleepin' just yet."

He turned to leave her, but paused. "Not sure why she likes you so much. When I got her lyin' down, just before the anaesthetic kicked in, you know what she asked me? Now, don't take this too seriously - idolises people, that girl - but she looks up at me, and the first thing she asks is if you were alright."

With that, the doctor hobbled off to bed, leaving the baffled courier behind in the hallway.

After a moment's hesitation, Brianna moved for the doctor's office. The door gave a slight squeak of protest as she pushed it open and stepped inside. The moonlight spilling through the window offered just enough light to outline the tiny ball curled up on the bed that had once been her own. Sunny Smiles was sobbing into a small yellow blanket, her entire body trembling. Her hair fell in matted tangles across her face; her partly shredded armour lay in a heap on the floor, leaving her shivering in a grey tank.

"Hey," Brianna said, crouching down to meet her height.

Sunny made a small noise of acknowledgement and brought herself up to a sitting position. Although she averted her eyes, Brianna could see that they were bloodshot and swollen. Fresh tears stained her cheeks, running down across various cuts and bruises that marked her skin. She cradled her bandaged stump with the hand that remained.

"How you feeling?"

She shrugged, hunching her shoulders and hugging her knees.

"Hey, what are you crying for? You saved the day. You saved me, Ringo, Mitchell. Even Cheyenne's okay."

"Yeah," she mumbled, then, "Why'd you do it? Why'd you-? Why-?"

"It was the only thing I could do. There was no way the doc could've saved it, Sunny. Cutting it off was the only way I could get it wrapped up on time. I- I did the best I could."

"How d- did you know? How'd you know it would work?"

"I saw somebody do it before. A doctor."

She drew her blanket close to her face and lay herself back down. Despite herself, Brianna reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind the crying woman's ear. "You're gonna be alright, Sunny, I promise. You're gonna be okay."

* * *

><p>"Here goes nothing."<p>

Brianna took a deep breath, forcing herself to stare into the mirror as she pinched the loose end of the bandage. She tugged, wincing as it pulled away matted strands of hair. Her face was sticky with congealed blood, thick and dark in contrast to her unusually pale skin. As more of her scarred flesh was revealed, she turned her attention to the plughole. She let the disgusting thing fall to her feet, slowly raising her eyes to the mirror.

Her stomach lurched.

A long, jagged scar shone milky white where the doctor had stitched her up, trailing from her temple to her eye socket. But that wasn't nearly the worst part. Surrounding the scar itself was a large, dark patch of scar tissue, rough and discoloured. The hair surrounding it had been hastily cut away, leaving nothing to hide the monstrous scarring. It felt like rot, like decay, slowly spreading across her skin and draining everything in her. She didn't see the amber glint in her eyes when the light bounced off them. She saw the scar. She didn't see the sly upward quirk of her sharply arched brow. She saw the scar. She didn't see the smatter of freckles across her nose, or the way her fingers drummed rhythmically against the edge of the sink, or the way her tight black vest accentuated her waist, her hips, her breasts. She saw the scar. And in it, she saw Benny. In it, she saw the satisfied smirk of the man who had done this to her.

A knock on the bathroom door brought her to her senses. She heard the doctor's voice from the other side, asking if she was okay.

She wasn't. Her eyesight was fine, her head was still in one piece, and she would be grateful for those things until the day she died. But her pretty face had always got her out of dangerous situations where a bullet just wouldn't do. It had won her free drinks - and her her life, on occasion. But it was more than that. Even if her headache never subsided, even if images of a hilltop graveyard would always haunt her nightmares, she'd known in her gut that once she dealt with Benny, she would be able to move on. Now she never could. He had left his mark on her, made sure that she would remember him every time she looked in a mirror. This was more than just the chance of never having sex again. This was something that would follow her to the grave.

It almost had.

She tore herself away from the mirror before she could smash it to pieces, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

"Ouch," the doctor managed.

"Yeah. Ouch."

The doctor scratched the back of his head. "It, uh, isn't as bad as it looks," he offered, the look on his face stating otherwise. "Scars add character, right?"

"Sure. Scars add character."

* * *

><p>"Ammo, ammo, ammo, rifle - oooh, a scope - ammo, ammo, food..."<p>

She gathered everything she needed into a huge pile and dumped it all on the counter. Chet's face grew a shade whiter with everything she decided to 'purchase'. Of course, when he told her "Y-you can, uh, take everything half-priced. It's the, uh, least I can do", Brianna heard only the word 'take'. And that meant she could raid his fridge as well as his stock.

"Thanks so much for helping me out," she smiled, hoisting the new rifle over her shoulder and looping the frag grenades safely around her new utility belt. Her metal-plated armour fit snugly around her body, courtesy of Ringo Hendricks himself, who'd had it delivered to her as a thank-you gift along with a beautiful two hundred caps. She dumped the remaining food packets in her bag, slung it over her shoulder and said goodbye to the gaping store owner with a cute little wave and a beaming smile before stepping out into the burning heat.

This was the time, she supposed, to think about finally leaving Goodsprings. Primm wasn't too far away, and it was the best chance she had to get some answers from a reliable source. A little extra information about her delivery job might shed some light on why she'd been shot in the head, and it offered some safer roads than the ones she'd find beyond Goodsprings. A few friendly locals warned her about a recent infestation of radscorpions beyond Graveyard Hill, and the road to New Vegas through Quarry Junction was, to her disappointment, _still_ crawling with Deathclaws. If nothing came out of this visit, at least she could avoid getting her head swiped off her shoulders.

"Hey," a familiar voice called. Brianna was surprised to see Sunny Smiles smiling at her from across the road and waving with her one working hand. Brianna immediately noticed the difference in her appearance as she made her way over. Her hair shone and fell in waves over her shoulders; she wore a pair of frayed denim jeans with a white button shirt underneath a brown leather jacket. Brianna was equally approving and confused. Finding an outfit as simplistic and cute was nigh impossible in the back-end of radioactive nowhere, but who the hell wore jeans in the scorching Mojave heat? Sunny's cheeks were blazing and her forehead shone with sweat. Still, she looked alive. She looked healthy. Brianna couldn't have been more grateful for that.

"You look better," she smiled. "How've you been?"

"Better," she agreed. "I mean, it'll take a while. But I'll get there." She eyed Brianna's scar for a moment before shifting her gaze to the assault rifle at her back. "Going somewhere?"

"Nah. I thought I'd stick around and be a cattle rancher for the rest of my days."

"Hey, it's an easy way to avoid getting shot in the head," she joked, "but I really can't see you in overalls and a straw hat."

"I could say the same about you. You said something in the bar about fending off critters here, right? If you can't do that, then what?"

The excitable bouncing stopped. "I, uh, haven't decided yet. I guess I'll just help Trudy out, probably. She needs someone to take over the saloon when she has one of her attacks. And I could probably help Chet out, or Doc Mitchell or-" Her voice cracked. "I know, I know. Not much I can do with this." She raised her bandaged stump, her tone souring. "I can still feel my missing fingers, you know. I keep trying to- to wriggle them around sometimes. Or I try to pet Cheyenne or- or reach for a drink or something and-" She shook her head. "Don't worry about me, I'll figure something out. What about you? Where are you going?"

"Primm. It's my first step to getting some answers, I guess. And I need my package back one way or another."

"A solo quest for answers and revenge, that sounds pretty fun. I mean, not solo, necessarily, if travelling with friends is more your thing."

Brianna raised an eyebrow.

"That's pretty cool too" she continued. "Campfires and story-telling and helping each other out. Living on the road. New experiences."

"God, I hope you aren't implying anything."

"No, no, of course not! Just that there's a plucky wasteland-adapted girl somewhere in the world who might like the sound of that. A plucky wasteland-adapted girl who can still use a pistol pretty well. And has a dog for extra protection. And can pay for her own food and doesn't take up a lot of space because she's very, very tiny. Again, not implying anything, just throwing out a hypothetical scenario in which this girl would love to join you on your daring adventure."

"You want to travel with me. You. You want to come along with me." She was still struggling to process this idea. "You must be really, really desperate."

"Well, I don't see why not. I mean, I guess you can be kind of aggressive, mouthy, loud, overly cocky, demanding and really, really foul-mouthed, but, well, maybe I can help you out. I've handled worse than geckos, I promise. As for caps, I get a lot for free around here because I help out the town, but I have enough to get by. And, you know, I can be pretty good company. I know some good jokes, I can cook up a mean campfire, I like long talks beneath the stars. It must get lonely travelling by yourself, right? Maybe you'd think about it?"

_No. Not again. Never again._

"Actually, I think that just might work."

* * *

><p>Her farewell party was gathered at the edge of town, not even a bad turnout in Brianna's opinion. Along with Sunny, Cheyenne and Doc Mitchell, Brianna saw Ringo, Easy Pete and few locals that she recognised from the bar. Even Trudy had joined in for the goodbyes, an appearance which surprised her even more than Victor's. The robot hung back in the distance, watching them silently from by the saloon. Some of the locals even looked sad to see her go. Or at least mildly inconvenienced. Doc Mitchell was the first to say his goodbyes.<p>

"My, my, girl. I can't explain how proud I feel, both of you and my stitchin' skills. Never thought I'd see those eyes open, and I certainly didn't think I'd see a small army of farmhands gathered at the end of my town by the end of the week. I gotta admit, it's been a damn fine pleasure to meet ya. You best come back and visit, or I'll track you down and skin your damn hide for a new leather couch."

She smiled. "I will, I promise. And thank you. Everything I do for the rest of my life is gonna be all down to you."

"Best make it interestin' then," he chuckled. "I want good stories next time you stop by."

He pulled her into a hug before retreating a few steps to allow others their goodbyes. It was Ringo who approached her next, not exactly tearful but sad to say goodbye. He held out a hand and gave her an understanding nod. She wasn't surprised to learn that he had no speech to give.

"You stuffy old bastard," she laughed, shaking his hand.

"Thanks for all the help, Miss O'Reilly," he said. "You're an angel, a goddamn angel, you and Sunny both. Don't you get hurt out there, alright?"

"You too," she replied, "stay safe."

And that was that.

She didn't expect a goodbye from Trudy, nor did she receive one. After an alarming hug from Easy Pete and a few words of thanks from some of the locals, Sunny bounced over to give everyone a final hug. Doc Mitchell watched, visibly surprised, but didn't raise a question as he hugged the smiling blonde back. It might have been a strange trick of the light, but Brianna thought he almost looked content.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I've said my goodbyes. C'mon, Cheyenne!" Sunny called. The dog came bounding up to greet them, tail wagging earnestly. Brianna offered a wave of goodbye to the small gathering as the three headed out, letting the town of Goodsprings disappear behind them and fade into the distance.


	6. Long Way Nowhere

**SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE GOODSPRINGS**

**JULY 18**

**11:50**

"The boys are the weediest; the girls are the prettiest!"

"Please d-"

_"WaaaAAAAAaaaaaay BaaAAAAAaaaack HoooOOOOme!"_

Brianna groaned. She'd shut off the radio at least half an hour ago, but Sunny hadn't even noticed. Not a full hour into their adventure and her new companion had already succeeded in two things: intensifying Brianna's headache and making her grieve the bitter loss of the music genres that hadn't survived the war. Knowing that punk rock used to be a thing made her loathe jazz music just that little bit more.

"Look, I'll put the damn radio on if you shut your mouth 'til we get to Primm, alright?"

"Oh come on," Sunny pleaded. "We're making this fun, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I bet the Deathclaws over the mountain are gonna find it real fun too. Maybe a band of raiders are gonna come and join the party. Because from here to New Vegas, _everyone_ can hear you, Sunny."

"Gotcha," she mumbled.

"Just trying to stay alive," she defended, fiddling with the Pip-Boy's dials. The device had picked up a few strange signals since they'd left Goodsprings - some guttural screams, unintelligible squabbling, the faint promise of wealth and fortune and something about the glory of science. After some searching, they found the gravelly voice of Mr. New Vegas.

_"Hellooooo, my beautiful friends in the wasteland. This is Mr. New Vegas to give you your daily dose of something... truly amazing. __We've heard some interesting reports of the most beautiful courier you've ever seen. __I'm sure you've heard the rumours, and according to a reliable source - that is, an old man from Goodsprings armed to the teeth with dynamite - this courier just woke up in the town after being shot in the head by an unknown assailant up at Graveyard Hill. That's right folks, in the head. Now, I know that some of you beautiful listeners out there aren't the brightest, but we all know that people don't usually survive after..."_

"Looks like anything can make the news nowadays," Brianna said, smiling a little despite herself.

"Well, you did get shot in the head," Sunny reminded her. "You don't see that everyday, right?"

When the broadcast ended, Brianna found herself occupied by other questions.

"So, you've spent a lot of time in Goodsprings, right?"

"Sure have," Sunny replied. "About three, four years? I was the first real newcomer, but people accepted me pretty quickly since the town itself just recently popped up. Trudy was kind of like a mom to me for a while. Guess sometimes I was a mom to her too."

"What made you decide to settle in?"

"Hey, could you stop?"

"What?"

"Just don't, Brianna. I didn't decide to come with you so you could 'subtly' interrogate me, alright? I don't wanna talk about that."

"I thought you were the one who wanted to make this fun," she snapped. "But fine, whatever. I don't care where you came from anyway."

"Feeling's mutual," she grumbled, storming onwards and leaving Brianna behind to catch up.

They didn't speak again until they found Jean's Skydiving, the crumbling remains of what must have been a much larger building than this before the bomb hit. The twisted metal remains of an aeroplane was rusting in the sand, along with a fading signpost someone had scribbled over. She didn't give the place a second glance until she spotted the faint billow of smoke trailing upwards from behind the building.

"Powder Gangers, maybe?"

Brianna nodded. Most travellers would have taken the I-15 from Goodsprings or continued onwards to Primm from here, and the Mojave was burning hot. Who would stop dead in the middle of nowhere to light a fire? "Something isn't right," she decided, unholstering her pistol and edging closer towards the building until the two were right outside. She peered behind it for the sake of being cautious before slipping in behind the hut, gun at the ready. Sunny did the same opposite her.

They didn't find Powder Gangers, nor did they find travelling merchants. Instead, the barrel of her gun found the stinking bodies of two junkies with needles lodged deep in their veins. Flies buzzed around the corpses, both lying face-down in the sand. Only one member of the group remained alive, rocking slowly back and forth next to the dying campfire. The woman was wholly unaware of - or completely indifferent to - the fact that her companions were steadily decomposing around her. The sight was almost comic in its tragedy.

Sunny shot a questioning look in Brianna's direction, silently asking how they should proceed. Brianna shoved her pistol back into its holster and eyed the makeshift campground. A small pile of chems littered the sand, mostly caked with dirt and blood. To her left she found an empty first aid bag and carefully moved to take it before gathering up whatever Jet inhalers were lying nearby.

"You think we should just leave her here?" Sunny whispered, as if a raised voice would wake the junkie from her daze.

Brianna chewed on her lip, studying the addict. The woman's cheeks were low and sunken, her bulging eyes staring at nothing. Her matted hair stood up in filthy blonde clumps and sickly yellow veins protruded from her skin. She sat in nothing but tattered underwear, revealing the vast amounts of cuts, bruises and burn marks that scarred her. This woman was beyond help. They both knew it. Eventually, someone else would come along and find her, someone who saw her as a fruit ripe for picking, an empty vessel, a business opportunity. The Legion offered plenty of caps for women like her.

Brianna drew her pistol.

* * *

><p>"That's NCRCF over there."<p>

The prison camp stood less than a half mile east, easily visible from their position on the hilltop. From here they could see four lookout towers, with two watchmen to each. The courtyard was fenced in with barbed wire that might have once been electrified. "Looks like it was used for heavy labour," Sunny observed, "but I don't see anyone out there, so we should be able to pass them by. And- oh, Christ. The dumpsters are filled with bodies."

Brianna crouched behind a high mound of rock, using the scope on her rifle to get a better view. From this position, she could easily take out the watchmen without being spotted. She'd learned a few things about sniping from a brief relationship with an NCR soldier, enough to have a good idea of what she was doing. Her only issue was that the assault rifle's range might be sub par to a real sniper rifle. She shuddered at the idea of riddling the watchtower with bullets and leaving the Powder Gangers unharmed. But unless they decided that living the rest of their lives behind this mound of rocks sounded like a wonderful idea, they'd be spotted and shot down immediately if they tried to continue down the hill.

"Let's take 'em out," she said. "We need all the supplies we can get, and these assholes are making things mighty inconvenient for travellers."

"I- I don't know if we can risk it," Sunny stammered. "It's a bad idea. You know how dangerous they are and you said we're in a hurry so-"

"If we don't stock up on supplies we'll be hurrying to our graves," Brianna interjected. "If we pick off the watchmen from back here there's no way we'll be spotted. I'd rather risk that than get a bullet in my back when we try to pass them by."

"Brianna, you saw them in Goodsprings. Even when we were evenly matched, they were still a force to be reckoned with. What makes you think we can finish off this many by ourselves?"

"Because I spent the last half year of my life in New Vegas. I know how to take a gamble."

She took a deep breath and lined up the shot, aiming the crosshair just above the first Powder Ganger's head. Biting the splitting pain in her skull, she tensed her finger on the trigger and gently applied pressure. The recoil slammed into her shoulder and the shot went wide_._ The startled Powder Gangers drew their weapons, searching frantically for the sniper in the hills.

"Shoot!" Sunny hissed, crouching down next to her. "Keep shooting!"

She couldn't. Her finger was frozen on the trigger, but she'd forgotten how to pull it. She drew herself away from the rifle to take a breath. Looking into the scope again, she saw him waiting for her, with that silver pistol aimed right between her eyes.

_"And get this, pussycat. The game was rigged from the start."_

Her finger jerked on the trigger. There was no time for thought. She needed that bastard out of her head before he got them both killed. The shot nearly went wide, but she managed to catch the Powder Ganger on the arm, sending him falling to the ground out of sight. Her next shot took the second watchman right in the throat. He was down before she could blink again.

"I can't take them down with a pistol, you know!" Sunny reminded her, voice shrill with fear.

_Next watchtower._

Clenching her teeth, she fired and hit the third watchman in the chest. The bullet tore right through his armour. The final guard was sent screaming to the ground.

"Good job," Sunny encouraged. "The rest of 'em look pretty pissed off, though."

She was right. The Powder Gangers down below were spilling out from the front gate in a wave of blue jumpsuits. The chorus of gunfire grew louder with every step as they fired bullets into the air. _And they're armed to the teeth with explosives, _she remembered.

_Perfect._

Despite Sunny's terrified protests, Brianna waited for them to get closer. She let them group closely together as they raced up the hill, almost comically enraged that two invisible gunwomen were having such an easy time ruining their day. The shot would be tricky while her opponents were moving so quickly, but she couldn't see any other option. She lined up her shot at the first belt she saw.

"Get ready for the fireworks."

She fired.

The dynamite went off with a deafening bang, igniting the explosives on every belt. They exploded into the air in a grotesque display of fireworks, decorating the sky with streams of crimson. Blood, vomit and vital organs splattered the sand in a satisfying shower of colour. Brianna's head pounded fiercely, ears ringing from the blast, but still she looked on with a triumphant smirk as streaks of red and blue painted the sand.

Sunny looked on with wide eyes, the colour drained from her face. Brianna got to her feet and extended her hand, but Sunny flinched back and scrambled to her feet. Her mouth gaped open. It was a while before she could speak. "You're crazy," she managed, her voice a mixture of disbelief and nervous giddiness.

"I saved our lives, didn't I? We didn't stand a chance against those-"

"Did you see the look on your face?!" She shrieked. "You looked- God, you looked _delighted _with yourself! Don't tell me you actually enjoyed that!" On a hasty note, she added, "You- you didn't, did you? Tell me you didn't."

She didn't reply.

Sunny shook her head in bewilderment before turning to look at the mass of body parts below them, her lips disappearing into a thin line. "We're travelling together. I'm travelling with a psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath," she muttered, her expression sour as she leaned back against the rock.

"Sorry. God, I know it was the best way to- to get rid of them, but _God. _Just promise to warn me before you do something like that again?"

"Not gonna happen."

"Jesus. You're not one of those bitter old movie guys, right? The ones who do 'bad things for good reasons'?"

"You think that was a good reason?"

She pursed her lips, looking down at the sea of corpses below them.

"Yeah. I do."

* * *

><p>They continued on past the grotesque display of exploded remains until they reached the wire fence surrounding the compound, a rusted gate and a short stretch of dirt separating them from the front door. Brianna fought to pull the gate open until it gave out with a loud, ringing <em>'screeeeech'. <em>She half-expected to hear an alarm going off, but the compound remained silent and undisturbed.

_For now._

"You don't think it'll be a little, uh, conspicuous if we use the front door?" Sunny asked.

"Because _that _was inconspicuous?" She asked, directing to the mess that lay behind them. "And, uh, I was thinking. Remember that time when you asked me to warn you if I do something crazy?"

"Yep, it happened about two minutes ago."

"Yeah, about that. I'm gonna do something crazy."

"And I'm gonna ruin your little moment and say no, do _not _do something crazy."

"Oh come on," she pleaded. "It'll be cool. For both of us."

She raised an eyebrow. "Cool in a dangerous way?"

"A little bit."

"Cool in a stupid way?"

"Definitely."

Before Sunny could react, Brianna unlooped a frag grenade from her belt, yanked out the pin and rolled it out in front of her. It landed with a soft _clink _against the wooden door. Sunny was aghast as Brianna grabbed her hand and yanked her down behind the dumpster along. The explosion sent a wave of heat and splinters washing over their heads. They burst through the fresh hole in the wall with pistols drawn, Cheyenne growling at their heels. Three terrified Powder Gangers stood inside, weapons ready.

Sunny sent two bullets in the first convict's direction. He fell with a piercing scream and a hole ripped through his chest. A bullet whizzed past Brianna's ear. She lodged a bullet in his throat in retaliation. Sunny slammed her pistol down on the nearest table and grabbed the leg of chair sitting next to it. She launched it in the remaining Powder Ganger's direction, knocking him back for Brianna to finish him off with a spray of bullets.

"That was satisfying," Sunny muttered. "Guess it's time to loot the place."

Brianna agreed, making a beeline for the stinking corpses while Sunny floated towards the fridge. It looked like the lounge room had been thrown into chaos during the convict outbreak - tables and chairs were strewn about the place and the trash can was overflowing with empty bottles. The place stank of shit and stale beer, and rooting through piss-stained pockets did nothing to ease the stench. The outcome wasn't even worth the effort; she managed to scavenge a few magazines for her pistol and, to her poorly-hidden amusement, a bright pink vibrator.

She exploded into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Sunny asked, still digging through the fridge. "What could be _so_ hilarious about a fresh corpse? Tell me!"

She launched the vibrator at Sunny's head, missing narrowly and sending it flying into a tin of beans.

"Jesus!" She exclaimed, leaping back. "Please, please tell me-" She paused, staring blankly at the vibrator, now submerged within the centuries-old beans. "That's not yours, right? Tell me that's not yours."

"Never seen it before in my life," she grinned.

"Great!" She span around and chucked the thing in Brianna's direction.

It collided with her head and dropped to the floor with a small clang of acceptance. Brianna got to her feet, rubbing her aching head and she moved for the first-aid kit on the wall. "If I get Syphilis from that thing, I swear to-"

"Cereal bars, cereal bars, cereal bars, cereal bars," Sunny sang, ignoring Brianna's concerns as she shovelled the food into her bag. When she was finished, she moved for the vending machine and gave it a hard kick. _Cla-clink. _"Now it's a party!" She cheered, rubbing her hands together with glee and gathering up the two bottles. "They're ice-cold!"

"Congratulations. Got everything?"

"Uh, looks like it," she replied, looking around the room. "I don't think we can fit anything else. You think we should-?"

"You girlies need any help in there?" A hoarse voice inquired. A man with a greying beard and straw cowboy hat strolled calmly into the sights of Brianna's pistol.

"Now, now, I wouldn't wanna do that," the stranger said, raising his hands in submission and moving into full view. Although he couldn't be much older than fifty, he was thin and frail, with a gaunt face and steel-blue eyes rimmed with dark shadows. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, and hadn't eaten much in all that time either. Although his face was square and hard, he'd been reduced to a scarecrow with a straw hat, his uniform hanging loosely from his skeletal figure. "I didn't do you no harm. Shootin' me would just be ill-mannered."

"Not at all," Brianna smiled. "I would just be saving you the trouble of having to shoot us first. Now, here's what we're gonna do." She strolled to the other side of the room, keeping her gun trained on the Powder Ganger. "Get on your knees, put your hands behind your head. Go."

Surprisingly, he did as he was ordered. He even unholstered the pistols at his thighs and slid them across the ground until they hit Brianna's feet. "I ain't one of those Powder Gangers, in case you were wonderin'. Got a lot more self-respect than those murderous bastards. I want no trouble."

"Good for you. Fifteen seconds, cowboy. Tell me why you're here or I'll leave you for the bloatflies."

"I was dumped here by the good bear-lovin' folks of NCR after a little 'misunderstanding'. Used to be sheriff down south in Primm, see, but after the NCR took over they decided I was a little too forthright about my sense of justice. Then those Powder fucks took over this place and I carried on with the little charade, helped them bust out."

She pointedly flicked off the safety.

"Now, now, they were gonna do it anyway with or without my help, and I was just savin' my own skin. Anyway, I stayed here as per the request of our present company." He nodded towards the corpses. "All I want now is to head back to Primm, maybe convince the NCR to let me stay. Seems like a little too much to ask for, but I guess I have nothin' to lose. Anything's better than bein' stuck in this hole, and my sentence is up already."

"You said you were forthright about your sense of justice?"

"If people in my town don't behave, I shoot them dead. Don't have time for 'fair trials' - if I see the guy doin' it, then he did it an' that's just that. We're better off without raidin' scumbags in this world, and whoever says that I don't have the right to decide that is badly mistaken, 'cause I'm the only one with big enough balls to deliver any justice out here."

Her aim wavered. "Ever hear of Regulators, old man?"

"Not since they packed off to DC, but I've seen 'em before. Never understood the finger thing, but I respect 'em well enough. Why? You part of 'em?"

"The 'finger thing' was the selling line," she said with a grin. "Haven't work with 'em with in a while, but I guess you could say I still follow their code."

"Then it looks like we've got plenty in common." With a theatrical groan, the stranger got to his feet and dusted off his trousers. "Would this be a good time to exchange formalities over a brahmin steak? Haven't eaten in a while. Could use a drink of somethin' too."

Brianna opened her bag and tossed him a bag of potato fries. "Much obliged," he said, tearing open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth, abandoning any thought of 'formalities'. Once the bag was empty, he tossed it aside. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, spotting the perplexed look on Sunny's face and extending a hand to her. "Name's Clifton Meyers."

She took his hand and shook it gingerly. "Sunny Smiles."

"You ladies passin' through Primm by any chance? Wouldn't mind a little company."

"Sounds nice," Sunny replied. "We have enough food to share, and I guess you kind of have a right to some of it."

Brianna couldn't help but agree. "Sure thing. Let's head out."


	7. Reckless

**THE WILD, WILD WASTELAND**

**JULY 18**

**19:35**

Their journey continued until the sun had made its gracious descent behind the mountains, bathing the Mojave in a soft pink glow. The road was long and empty and Primm was nowhere in sight, lost behind the road's high slopes and hills. The world was quiet for now, but it wouldn't be long before the wasteland's abominations crept out from their holes to hunt. For the first time since she'd returned from the grave, uneasiness was beginning to settle in the pit of Brianna's stomach. It was like everything was finally becoming real to her, everything from her search to find answers to her own murder which had started it all. Despite the cheery cowboy, the softly humming blonde and her canine companion, Brianna had never felt so isolated in her own thoughts.

"You okay?" Sunny asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she mumbled. But she _wasn't._ She knew this road like the back of her hand and it wasn't one she cared to walk again. But the Powder Gangers dominated this area, blocking off every short-cut and taking refuge in the old hideouts she used to sleep in. Things had changed since she'd gone to New Vegas. This was the only way to Primm now.

"Can't say I blame y' for not bein' in good spirits," Meyers said. "We ain't gettin' to Primm before nightfall, no chance."

She glanced at her Pip-Boy, the default screen displaying a large 19:35. At this rate they wouldn't reach Primm before dark, and she didn't fancy her chances out in the dead of night, not in this area. The mountains here were crawling with Deathclaws and Nightstalkers - not a good combination of predators you'd want to run into. And with the Powder Gangers roaming free, she wouldn't risk walking around for much longer. Although she would never admit it, even she was prey out here. And for once, she felt like it, felt the fear of being such a small human out in a world of monsters.

"Hear that howlin', missy? Comin' from that canyon path. Coyotes, I'd reckon."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather steer clear."

"Think you'd fare better against another mob of convicts, huh?"

Her eyes darted about uneasily. "Fine. Let's go."

* * *

><p>Walking through the mountain pass was a one-way trip down memory lane, and Brianna couldn't remember buying a ticket. Sunny silenced her humming and walked with her pistol drawn, Cheyenne remaining obediently silent. Meyers led the way with his newly-scavenged hunting rifle at the ready, and Brianna followed closely suit with her gun at her side as they trekked through the pass. She hadn't even noticed the cold bite in the air until she saw her breath forming a shapeless cloud of vapour. The moon was creeping up from beyond the horizon and the world was growing dark.<p>

"Keep quiet," Meyers whispered. "I'll reckon we'll be taking on the momma and her pups."

They edged further down the path until they found the coyote den. Brianna could see the pups padding around the small cave, guarded by the mother. It was a truly heart-warming sight before Meyers readied his shotgun and blew off the mother's head. The remaining pups charged for the intruders, who set to work instantly. Brianna fired twice at the first pup, wincing when she heard it squeak and fall to the ground. Cheyenne and Meyers made short work of the other three, and Brianna finished off the last with a short spray of bullets. Sunny remained idle, though Brianna felt it best not to say anything.

"Anyone gonna help me with this?" Meyers asked, sitting himself down by the largest coyote.

"I think I'll pass," Sunny mumbled.

"Tough Girl?" He asked, looking in Brianna's direction.

"Knock yourself out," she replied, taking her knife and tossing it in his direction.

"Okey-doke," he replied, catching it in one hand and heartily plunging it into the coyote's gut.

"Someone should scout the area," Sunny suggested. "We don't know what's ahead."

"You won't find anything," Brianna replied.

"But it's best to be safe, right?"

"Sure is."

Sunny called for Cheyenne and the pair set off down the passageway.

"So, you've been here before?"

"Yeah. I've been here."

"Looks like the path ends here," she said, a hint of disappointment in her tone as she directed her attention towards the wreckage that lay before them. Just ahead, a wall of storm-tossed destruction obstructed their path. The remains of buildings and structures lay ahead of them, along with various car parts and twisted sheets of metal that had long since rusted into each other. A dented caravan lay turned on its side; entire billboards lay in pieces, strewn across the sand.

"You said you'd-? No way."

Brianna looked up, following the direction of Sunny's pointing finger.

Sprayed across the nearest billboard was a name.

Her name.

And then she saw it. All of it.

**COURIER SIX **scrawled on the remains of a billboard. **YOU CAN GO HOME NOW, COURIER** painted on a pile of twisted metal.

**YOU CAN GO HOME. BRIANNA O'REILLY. YOU CAN GO HOME. YOU CAN GO HOME. BRIANNA. BRIANNA O'REILLY. YOU CAN GO HOME.**

**YOU CAN GO HOME.**

**YOU CAN GO HOME NOW, COURIER.**

She felt dizzy. And then, right in front of her, a sign.

_**Welcome to Lonesome Road.**_

* * *

><p>"I don't give a shit about your damn steaks! We're not staying!"<p>

"Look, sweetie-"

"Don't you dare call me that again!"

"Look, swee- Brianna. Let's just talk about this, okay?" Sunny moved to her side, plastic plate in hand. "What happened?"

"You know what happened. Doesn't matter if you've been living in the ass-end of nowhere, you _know _what happened in Hopeville."

Sunny frowned, obviously confused. "The radio said something about..."

"About a courier. An explosion. A betrayal. That was me. That was my fault. And someone hasn't been able to let go."

"Look, I don't know what happened with y- with that courier, and you don't need to tell me, but the person who wrote that is long gone, and we'll be out of this place as soon as it's morning."

She couldn't help the smile that came to her face. "Alright, alright. We can stay."

Sunny beamed and jumped to her feet, singing about steaks as she skipped towards the campfire. Brianna followed, driven by the longing growls of her empty stomach. The pair plopped down by the campfire next to Meyers and Cheyenne, drinking down the smell of cooking meat. Meyers served up the meal on some stolen NCRCF plates, and Sunny heaped generous piles of InstaMash and mantis legs onto every one. They'd just began to tuck in when Cheyenne grabbed the steak from Meyers' plate and went bounding off into the cave. Sunny and Brianna collapsed into giggles, both deciding that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad night after all.

* * *

><p><em>"Wakey wakey, sleepyhead!"<em>

Her eyelids fluttered. The first thing she felt was a dull pounding in her head, then a hand ruffling her hair. A rough tongue was licking at her face, the scratching sensation accompanied by the rancid smell of dog breath. Her muscles were stiff and aching from a long night of lying on a hard cave floor. She groaned, shielding her eyes from the piercing sunlight as she rolled over-

_"Shit!"_

- right onto the injured side of her head. She leapt up in alarm, cursing in pain and clutching her head as the world baltered out of orbit.

"Morning!" Sunny trilled, tossing a bundle of clothes in Brianna's face before she could even pry her eyes open.

Mumbling incoherently, Brianna hauled herself up and gathered her armour. Her nose wrinkled when the sweet smell of sweat reached her nose. God, she smelled like the back-end of a brahmin corpse.

"You can't stand around in your panties forever," Sunny reminded her, tossing a cereal bar in her direction. "You're making Cheyenne uncomfortable."

The snack landed at her feet. She grumbled an incoherent response and pulled on her armour before biting open the cereal bar and scoffing it down. She emerged from the cave with a wide stretch, throwing her rifle over one shoulder and slinging her bag over the other. Meyers was busy taking stock of the useless junk he'd picked up from the prison. Sunny was sitting by the dead campfire with Cheyenne, rooting through a medical kit.

Brianna sat down next to her, raising an eyebrow at the small glass bottles of medication that were laid out on the ground, including wads of cotton wool and gauze. She didn't have time to prepare for the next sight to catch her eye. The stump of Sunny's hand had been roughly stitched just below the wrist. It was clean but badly inflamed. "You know, you could roll around in some radioactive goo for a while, see if that helps."

"A mutated hand growing out of my bellybutton wouldn't be doing me any favours."

"Just a suggestion."

When she was finished, Sunny let the bottles fall with a _clink _into the medical kit. She reached for the bandage roll, staring at it for a moment before pulling out a strip and uselessly trying to wrap it around her stump. The thing fell away after a few seconds, much to Sunny's bright red embarrassment.

Brianna understood. She took the bandage and pressed the first end over the stump in what she felt was the right place. Touching the rough skin felt strange at first, but she soon grew accustomed to it as she gently wrapped the bandage around, careful not to hurt her. She wasn't sure if the injury would still be painful, but she wasn't willing to chance it. Once it was neatly wrapped, Sunny supplied a pair of scissors and cut the bandage herself before sticking it with some surgical tape, unable to keep the smile off her face.

"You know, I think we make a pretty spectacular pair."

* * *

><p>They left the canyon behind them and continued down the long road to Primm. The scorching heat of the Mojave was slowly creeping along from the horizon as the sun climbed higher above the rocky canyon, lifting their spirits as it went. There was nothing to do but ration out the last of their water - a pathetic bottle and a half - and fill the silence with conversation. Or at least, Meyers seemed to think so.<p>

"So, y'ever gonna tell me where yer headed? Be good to know yer not serial killers or nothing, 'cause then I'd have to shoot y'."

Sunny winced. "You don't have to worry about that. I came here from Goodsprings to join Brianna after the, uh, injury." She gave her arm a half-hearted wave.

"Ah, yes. How'd you come to lose that hand anyway? Looks like a pretty recent job to me," he guessed. "Or did your mysterious courier friend do it and now she's holdin' y' hostage? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

She laughed. "Nah, Goodsprings got into a little trouble with Powder Gangers. No fatalities - except for them, of course. I spent most of it screaming behind a pile of rocks."

Meyers chuckled. "Is that so?"

"She isn't telling the story right," Brianna admitted. "She left out the bit where I got tackled by a Powder Ganger who drove a stick of dynamite into my head and tried to blow us all up. Thought I was gonna get blown to pieces before I even made it out of town. And then Sunny comes along with a face that could kill a man, wrestles the crazy bitch right off me and stomps on her face. Should've shoved that dynamite down her throat, but she got too caught up looking for a safe place to toss it. When she found one, it was too late."

Meyers gave a low whistle. "Not a bad tale. But how'd that bring you two out here?"

"That's a different story," Brianna replied. "I'm looking for someone, a New Vegas guy."

"That so? Runaway husband, is he? Father of your illegitimate children?"

"How'd you guess?" Sunny asked, amazed.

Brianna nodded solemnly. "I have to silence him before word gets out. Can't have that no-good lady-charmer shamin' my good family. Good Lordy, what would my poor mama say?" After a moment, she became a little more serious. "If he hadn't shot me in the head, maybe it wouldn't have to be this way."

"Woah, there," Meyers said. "How much of that was a joke?"

"Do I need to point out the scar?"

"Huh. Well, that sure is interesting. So what are you gonna do after you find him?"

"I'm gonna get answers. Then I might kill him."

A guttural growl ripped its way from Cheyenne's throat. Sunny frowned, scratching the dog behind the ears. "She sees something."

Brianna saw them in the corner of her eye, tiny silhouettes moving erratically in different directions. Bloatflies. Meyers yanked her down behind a pile of rocks before she could even make a suggestion. He crouched down next to her, followed by Sunny and Cheyenne, who was snarling viciously.

"Now would be a good time to make use of that scope," Sunny suggested, keeping her voice hushed.

"No shit."

_Shit, shit, shit._

"Just take out a couple if you can. They won't see you if you keep low."

"No pressure."

She leaned low against the rocks and pressed the scope to her eye. She could see about five of the fat flies buzzing around a large puddle of radioactive goop. She focused her aim on the body of the closest, but the fly wouldn't keep still. She estimated where it would move next and focused her aim there, jerking her finger on the trigger as soon as it flitted into her sights. She caught one of its crystalline wings, sending it spinning to the ground with an ear-piercing shriek. The others were growing increasingly erratic. Although she tried, she couldn't keep one in her sights.

"Give it to me," Sunny ordered.

"Sunny, you can't-"

"Prop it up on the rocks, okay? Just there."

She did as she was told, hiding her doubt as she moved away to allow her more room. Sunny lay down against the sand and peered into the scope, balancing the rifle with her bandaged arm. She fired.

The second bloatfly went down.

"Holy shit," Brianna breathed, watching as the next spiralled downwards. And the next, and the next, until the final fly had a gaping hole in its midsection.

"Just leave things to the pro next time," Sunny grinned, handing back the rifle.

Meyers was dumbfounded. "My God! Now, that was somethin' special."

"Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" Brianna asked.

"A friend taught me."

Brianna looked doubtful, but didn't say anything more. Sunny Smiles just oozed self-satisfaction, and she couldn't help the smile that came to her lips. After climbing to her feet, she extended a hand to Sunny and yanked her up with a teasing reply of "Nice shooting, sweetie."

* * *

><p>"And here we are," Meyers declared, taking in all the glory of Primm.<p>

From atop the hill, Brianna watched the town through Sunny's binoculars. She had a good view of the streets from beyond the high walls and iron fences. Primm was a small place, a tiny fraction of what it had been before the bombs dropped. In the pre-war days it had been a condensed version of Las Vegas, but only two casinos - The Vikki and Vance and The Bison Steve - had survived the Great War. The latter had a giant rollercoaster situated behind it, the ugliest pre-war death machine Brianna had ever seen. Riding the creaking monstrosity had been a small dream of hers once, but the rollercoaster had died with the rest of the world.

"Nobody's on the streets," she observed. "Are those the NCR tents?"

Meyers grunted his disapproval as a watchman in earth-coloured armour came jogging up the hill to greet them.

"You three should remain on this side of the wall unless you wanna get shot," he warned, his expression stony and his eyes dark. "Hurry along now."

They didn't.

"NCR don't shoot civilians," Brianna reminded him. "So where's the danger?"

The trooper sighed, joining them as they descended the hill. "Town's been overrun by convicts, the ones that escaped the prison a few miles back."

"More Powder Gangers?" Sunny asked.

"No idea what they're calling themselves, but this gang comes from the same bunch as those dynamite fucks. Bastards just charged right in, took the whole town hostage. Now we're stuck out her until- well, I don't fucking know. Until _something_ happens. The captain could probably tell you more, but he's up to his ears in problems already. Gotta make it seem like we're doing something. For now, I mean."

"And why _aren't_ you doing something?" Meyers demanded.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to say. In the end, he blew out a sigh and told them everything. "Look at us, for Christ's sake. We're done. We're outnumbered, outgunned. Ammo's running dry and we're stuck rationing food. Can't get supplies when the roads are being held up by convicts. The Legion's wiped us clean and we're barely holding ourselves together." He paused. "Look, I don't know if I should be telling you all this, but we're fighting for the people, right? If we can't do that, we should at least let 'em know what's going on. Legion have wiped out a couple of our bases, threatening us, keeping us distracted while our own damn prisoners escape our own damn prisons. We're hopeless."

"Sorry to hear that," Meyers offered. "Things'll turn up eventually, right?"

"So what's the plan?" Sunny pressed, glancing in Brianna's direction.

"Sorry, miss," the soldier interjected. "I don't know what the NCR are trying to do here, but it's my duty to keep civilians safe. I'm afraid I can't let you go inside."

_Wrong answer, buddy_.

"Look, soldier," Brianna said, forgetting her scars and meeting his eyes. "I need to get in there. You don't understand, I-" She pursed her lips and pointed to the left side of her head. "Someone did this to me. Someone came after me and they shot me." She swallowed the lump in her throat, brushed away a tear. "I need answers. I've come all this way to get here, to figure out why someone would wanna do that to me. I have a strong man here to protect me and my friend. He was sheriff here, he can take care of things."

"Hey, I see what you're trying to do here, but-"

"Do this for me and I swear, I'll do anything to make it up to you."

"Well, uh, if you're sure. But I'll have to ask the-"

"Thank you, soldier. That means so much."

They left the young soldier behind to think about what he'd done.

"Should've took you for a Black Widow all along," Meyers hooted. "Damn, girl."

She mumbled something in response, stopped suddenly by a booming voice.

"Stop! Don't take another step!" A man barked. "Lieutenant Hayes at your service, civilians. I'm afraid I can't let you through."

"We got permission from the man just over there-" Sunny began.

"The permission of Private Bales won't protect you against those proximity mines, civilian," he stated, gesturing towards the wooden bridge ahead of them. She couldn't see them at first, but Brianna soon noticed the flashing LEDs.

"That's how they're keeping you out?" Sunny inquired.

"Negative, civilian, but I'm afraid that's NCR business. Move along."

"You cowardly bastards," Meyers growled.

Brianna wasn't as passive. "You're keeping them in there?! Why?! So they can all kill each other before you have to lift a finger?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"As I said, it doesn't concern you."

Meyers spat on the man's boots. "And you dare question my morals, soldier. Shippin' me off to the slammer so you could sit here with yer thumbs up yer ass and condemn these innocent people. You oughta be ashamed."

A trace of recognition flickered in the Lieutenant's eyes. "Ah, Clifton Meyers. Are you calling yourself a Powder Ganger now too?" I'm afraid we'll have to- you know what? Fuck this. We're desperate here. If you can get rid of those mines then feel free to go on ahead. We need all the help we can-"

The deafening_ boom _of twenty mines exploding at once silenced the Lieutenant.

"Glad that's settled," Brianna replied, pistol still aimed at the now non-existent bridge. "Now get out of my fucking way."


	8. In With A Bang

**PRIMM**

**JULY 20**

**08:45**

"Aw, great! Now you've really fucked everything up!"

Brianna leapt over the newly made gap between the road and the town, ignoring the Lieutenant's outraged screams. She caught only a few words of his angry rant - something about death and hostages - as she unholstered her pistol. Meyers and Sunny jumped over to meet her at the entrance, Cheyenne following suit. The explosion should have alerted every convict in the town, but they found the place dead and empty. It was only when they reached the run-down Mojave Express that someone spoke up.

"Oh my God," Sunny breathed, gaze fixated on the pavement.

She was staring at a corpse.

The boy couldn't have been older than eighteen, with dark skin and a muscular build. With his denim overalls and chequered shirt, he might have been a town kid before he'd taken House's courier job. It only took a moment for Brianna to understand this, to realise that his death had nothing to do with the convicts. Wrapped in fluttering brown paper was a tiny, glinting object that sparkled silver in the sunlight.

A chess piece. A pawn.

A pawn made of platinum.

Her gaze wouldn't shift from the lifeless body. The bullet had gone right through the middle of his skull, spraying blood and brain matter across the whitewashed wall behind him. A bruise-like stain seemed to be spreading across his bloated face. This was the murder that had woken her in the middle of the night, the gunshot that had sent her running without a word of farewell in case the next bullet was for her.

This could have _been _her.

She could see it so easily, see herself slumped against some old building, blood pooling on the sidewalk as her fingers stiffened around the worthless object that had gotten her killed. Her stomach heaved as she imagined the bloatflies that would lay their eggs there, as she imagined the tightened face of the stranger who would toss her body into the nearest ditch and hope that the stink wouldn't take long to pass. She pushed past Meyers and emptied her stomach onto the pavement. Her knees buckled as Sunny rushed to her side, keeping her upright while the world swayed back and forth.

"I'm fine," she managed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "One of you have a mint?"

"Jesus," Meyers breathed. "This is the same guy that-?"

"Same guy."

"Well, holy shit."

"Let's just keep going."

The left the rotting corpse behind, moving towards The Vikki & Vance Casino across the remnants of the street. They kept to the back of the building, peering around it only to get a view of what was going on in the centre of town. The sight was nothing pretty. The hostages were being held in front of the casino opposite - The Bison Steve - both kneeling as a man with a flamethrower taunted them loudly. They could only watch in silence as another convict strolled over and put out his cigarette on one of their heads. Four others patrolled the area while three more stood by the Bison's side entrance, smoking cigarettes. Those three were close enough to the Mojave Express that Brianna could pick them off from behind it if she could find suitable cover.

"We need a plan, right?" Sunny whispered, as Brianna returned to the back of the building.

"Right," she agreed. "Sunny, you and Cheyenne can head across the building and take down the ones with the hostages. As soon as you start shooting, I'll head over to the Mojave Express so me and Meyers can make a start on the others. I'll be able pick off the smokers before they can cause any trouble. After the guards are dealt with, you can help us out with the ones that are left. We flank right, you flank left, it'll be easy. If you keep low, they'll be too distracted by the cowboy and the courier to notice you straight away, right?"

"I can handle that," she assured her, scratching Cheyenne behind the ears. "See you in a minute?"

"Won't even take that long," she grinned.

They got to work. Sunny made for the other side of the Vikki & Vance while Brianna peered around the side of the building. There was no way the convicts on patrol hadn't spotted them gaping at the other courier's corpse - they must have left The Bison Steve soon after the explosion.

Gunshot.

She didn't waste a second. Brianna pelted across the street and headed behind the Mojave Express, shrugging the rifle off her shoulder and wriggling into a prone position. She peered into her scope and locked her sights on the closest smoker before the commotion could begin. The three were debating whether heading for the attacking newcomer was worth it before a bullet ripped through one of their throats. The convict's eyes snapped open. He clawed at his neck while his legs buckled beneath him, blood dribbling from his mouth. The others leapt back, aiming their weapons at the shadows while their friend writhed in agony on the ground, twisting desperately in search of the sniper. His eyes locked on hers, wide and afraid until he sputtered a final bloody cough, jerking one last time before falling still. She wished she hadn't looked. They had the same eyes.

A shot cracked through the air. Meyers emerged from cover, decorating the pavement with some poor convict's brains as the others charged into action. "I love frontier justice!" The cowboy hooted, tearing a gaping hole through another malefactor's midsection. Brianna headed out to join him, riddling the nearest gang member with holes before he could take another step. The next death wasn't as clean. Meyers fired straight into the oncoming convict's groin, drawing a tortured shriek from his throat before a hole was blown through that as well. From the corner of her vision, she saw another-

_"Happy fucking birthday!"_

She caught only a short glimpse of his face before the convict came racing for her, wielding two lit sticks of dynamite. She threw herself behind the casino as the world exploded. The pavement slammed against her chin. Blood roared in her ears. Static. Silence. She crawled to her feet, calling out for Meyers in a voice she couldn't hear. She touched a finger to her ear, blinking in confusion when it came away bloody.

"And that is that," came a faint voice as Meyers strolled into view. "You doin' alright?"

"Sunny," she said, wincing at the throbbing in her head. "You hearing gunshots?"

"Not a thing," he said, suddenly grave as they headed towards the Bison Steve.

"Hold the fuck up!"

They stopped dead.

"Stay the fuck put or Sheriff, Grandma and Stumpy here are gonna get it!"

Sunny yelled something that might have been an insult, muffled behind the duct tape across her lips. She was kneeling next to an elderly woman with dark, weather-beaten skin and a stony expression. To her left was a middle-aged man with silvery hair, his bottom lip trembling and his eyes welling with tears. Sunny's face was scarlet with the shame of being captured, though the fresh corpses littered about the area indicated that she had put up a strong fight.

Brianna aimed her pistol at the convict's head. He replied to her furious glare with a crazed grin, made all the more terrifying by the flamer he nursed in his arms. The other three stood with pistols ready, lazily aimed in the direction of their opposition. One more stood to the side, slapping a lead pipe against the palm of his hand. They must have emerged from one of the casinos when the gunfire didn't cease. She hoped that these were the last of them.

"Look, I'm gonna make this real simple," she explained to Flamethrower. "I'm going to shoot you in the head. Then, my friend Meyers here is going to shoot this guy here." She gestured at the pipe-wielding convict. "And then I'm gonna kill all your friends. Okay?"

"I'm gonna torch your fucking friend, you dumb bitch!" Barked Flamethrower. "Put the gun away or I'll kill 'em! I'll kill the whole fuckin' lot of you!"

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" She wondered, pulling the trigger.

His head exploded into a shower of crimson. Meyers took another down without a second's hesitation while Brianna twisted her body around and grabbed the man next to her, dropping her gun to whip the pipe out of his hand. She cracked it down over his head, leaving a satisfying dent before swinging it back up in his face. His nose crunched beneath the blow; his teeth shattered and fell onto the pavement as she tossed the body aside. She bent down to retrieve her pistol, finishing off the final convict with two bullets to the head.

"Help me out," she told Meyers, who was preoccupied with looting the corpses and had no intention of helping her out at all. She knelt down by Sunny, tore the tape from her mouth and began to saw through the tight knots that bound her left hand to what remained of the other, silently grateful that she never forgot to carry around someone else's kitchen knife.

"Is Cheyenne okay?" Was all Sunny could muster. "I told her run in case she got hurt."

"I'm sure she's fine," Brianna assured her, slicing through the rest of her restraints. "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter." She got to her feet. "Let's help the others."

She mumbled something in agreement and moved towards the next trembling hostage. His face was deathly pale and splattered with crimson. While Sunny got to work with freeing the elderly woman, Brianna ripped the duct tape off the younger stranger's mouth, drawing an alarmed cry. "Who- who are you?" He stammered, clambering to his feet. "What do you want?"

"These kindly people just saved your sorry behind," the old lady clucked, getting to her feet and wiping the blood from her frock with an disapproving scowl. "I'm sure some thanks would be appreciated."

"Uh, yeah, th- thank you."

"Pleasure," Brianna said with a wink.

Meyers approached and stretched his arms widely. "Mornin', Ruby."

"Howdy, Sheriff," the old lady smiled. "Somethin' tells me you're pinin' for a scotch after all that sittin' around in shackles."

"Can't say I'd mind a drink and a sit down before I kick this cowardly bastard out on his ass."

"I- I'm the deputy, sir," the cowardly bastard quivered. "Deputy Beagle."

"Yeah, yeah. Me an' you are gonna have a long conversation, you hear me, son?" He patted the deputy on the shoulder with enough strength to nearly knock him off his feet.

* * *

><p>"Home sweet home."<p>

The door swung shut behind them and all conversations fell silent. Slot machines whirred around them as they entered and the smell of booze hung in the air. A bullet-riddled car was parked on a podium in the centre of the Vikki & Vance, illuminated by the glowing lights around it. The lower floor was patrolled by a Protectron in a cowboy hat, as well a number of locals carrying shotguns. Every one of them was pointed in Brianna's direction.

"Well, I'll be damned." The voice came from the wrinkled old man who strolled over to meet them. "Looks like Mr. New Vegas ain't gone crazy after all. That was some ordeal up on the hilltop, wasn't it? Nice to see you're still kickin', Six."

"Nice to see you too, Josh."

He tipped an imaginary hat to her, then to Meyers and Sunny. "Good to see you too, Sheriff. And you too, missy." He chuckled at the sight of them. "A courier, a cowboy and an amputee walk into a bar... and they even bring back my lovely wife." The old man beamed as his sweetheart wrapped her arms around him. "Hope you aren't too shaken after all that, Ruby?"

"Shaken?" She scoffed, pulling away and swatting him playfully on the head. "I near clawed their eyes out, Joshie."

"Well, now that old business is cleared up," Meyers interrupted, "I wouldn't mind a drink to settle the nerves. Mrs. Nash?"

"It would be the least I could do, dearie. Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"No, ma'am, but I've been dreamin' of those lovely casseroles you cooked up for me last time. And my new friend here has some business to discuss with your husband."

"Ah, of course," Joshua said, eyeing her scar. "Nasty business, that. Can't say I didn't see it comin', though. Our little home in the Mojave Express won't fit all of y', but we can fix somethin' up at the bar, don't you worry. Wouldn't mind a couple o' drinks myself."

They followed the elderly couple to the back room. Brianna found herself a stool next to Sunny, letting Cheyenne find a comfortable spot between their feet. They found the crazy dog chewing up sticks of dynamite before they entered the Vikki & Vance, but she was completely unharmed, much to Sunny's relief. After some amount of rummaging, Joshua Nash produced two beers in each hand and set them out on the bar.

"Help yourselves to whatever else you need," he insisted. "We owe you our goddamn lives."

"Well, I'll scoot back home and cook you all up something," Ruby said with a smile. "Shouldn't be more than a half hour if I can get that old grill up and running." And with that she hobbled off, humming to the radio as she went.

"Right," Brianna said. "Business."

He poured himself a drink from behind the bar. "You comfortable talkin' about this here?"

"Doesn't matter to me." She grabbed a bottle opener from the table and opened her beer with a _click_ and a _hiss_, sliding the cap back to him. "Just tell me everything you know."

"I'll help y' if I can, Six, but I barely know a damn thing myself. It was a strange job, that one. Six items were sent out: a chess piece, a fuzzy dice, a poker chip, a keyring, a playin' card, and a bottle cap. All of 'em were made of platinum, but only one was important."

"The poker chip."

"Yep. Not sure what it was for, but it was special alright."

"Special how?"

"I dunno, really. Just somethin' strange about it, somethin' wrong, like it was more than what it seemed. Actually, I just remembered somethin' else. You weren't the first courier to be offered the job. We had two couriers called Six workin' for us at a time. Your name had a big question mark at the end. Hadn't see you in half a year, thought you'd kicked it somewhere in the desert. We were gonna scrub your name off until a very strange thing happened. See, the other Courier Six came down here to take the job. Weird guy, always wore this mask. There he is, all set to take the Platinum Chip until he sees Brianna O'Reilly's name next to his. Asks me if the name is for real. I tell him it sure is, but we don't know if her heart's still goin'. He tells me plain as day that Courier Six is alive and well. 'Give her time' was what he told me. 'News will spread and Brianna O'Reilly will return. Let her carry the package'. Then he walks out, just like that, like the Mojave would sort y' out or somethin'. Bastard. I hope a storm from The Divide skins him alive."

"That doesn't make any sense. Do you know who gave the delivery order?"

"Everything was paid up front, no questions asked."

"Shit," she breathed, massaging her throbbing temples as she tried to get her head around this. "You don't know where the other Six went, do you?"

"I wish I did."

She pursed her lips and knew exactly what her next question meant. It meant resignation. It meant defeat. It meant there wasn't a damn thing else she could learn, that she was stuck again with just a single option. Revenge. Petty, unjustified, desperate revenge, that was all she had.

"You didn't see a man in a chequered suit, did you?"

"You talkin' about some New Vegas pretty-boy in a daisy suit? I saw him snoopin' 'round here a few times, in fact. Came up to me a while ago askin' questions about the deliveries 'round here. You should ask Deputy Beagle. He goes snoopin' every now and then, pretendin' like he's doin' somethin' useful."

With a wide stretch and a groan, Meyers got to his feet. "Yeah, I think I'd like to have a good long talk with the boy about how he's been runnin' my goddamn town."

They found the Deputy standing next to the bullet-riddled car in the centre of the casino, feigning interest in one of the faded plaques in front of him. The guy was as white as a sheet, his fingers trembling as he tapped them against his leg. She couldn't blame him for being scared out of his mind - after all, he'd almost been burned alive - but she couldn't find it in her to sympathise.

"Beagle," she called, storming towards him with fists clenched tight. "We need to talk."

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, taking a few hasty steps back. "I don't know anything about what happened, alright? Those convicts, they- they just came in and I didn't mean to-"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Y- yes ma'am."

"You see a guy in a chequered suit around here?"

"Uh, n-no, I-"

"Cut the crap, yes you did."

"I don't know what you-"

Meyers grabbed him by the collar. "Speak up, sir, or I might personally demonstrate some frontier justice on your sorry ass. Tell her what she wants to know."

"Okay, okay, yeah, h- he was asking me some questions, th- that's all. Somethin' about, uh, c- couriers and the Mojave Express. Somethin' about a guy that lived here and a chick called Six, some crazy stuff like that. Mentioned a few other people too. W- wanted to know where they were goin'."

Sunny breathed a short command to Cheyenne, who raised her hackles and circled the Deputy slowly, bearing teeth.

"I- I didn't know, I swear! I just told him I didn't know anything and then- and then a gun went off in the middle of the night and he- he killed Daniel and went off! Had these Khans with him, man and woman were all I saw, but I heard there were others."

Meyers took a knowing step back, waiting for her to let loose.

"Did they say where they were going?"

"Uh, said something about, uh, going to Goodsprings and then-"

"Why?"

"Uh, because-"

"Because I was headed there!" She grabbed him by the collar. "You knew, didn't you? Batted your eyelashes at me the whole fucking night. We talked. You bought me a drink. You knew exactly where I was going. Then Benny kills Daniel, I leave town in the middle of the night, you tell them everything they want to know and before I reach my destination they shove my head in a potato sack and bury me in a shallow grave. Three seconds, you snivelling sack of shit. Tell me why. Three fucking seconds, you hear me?!"

"They cornered me, alright?!"

"How much did they pay you?"

"Three hundred caps!"

"You cowardly fuck. Is that what a person's goddamn life is worth to you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Oh, you're sorry?! Is that supposed to mean a fucking thing?! Is the constant agony in my skull going to magically subside because you think your apologies mean any more than a steaming pile of brahmin shit? Listen to me." Her voice fell to a deathly hush. "Because of you, I got shot in the head. Because of you, I will live in pain for the rest of my life. Because of you, I will be scarred forever because you - couldn't - keep - your fucking - mouth shut!" She swung for him with every pause for breath, punctuating each sentence with her fists. "Where are they?!" His nose broke beneath the force of her punch. "Tell me where they are or I put a bullet in your skull, let's see if you survive that."

"Nipton! They're going to Nipton!" He cried, stumbling back and holding his bleeding nose. "I don't know why, I swear! I swear! Don't hit me again! Please!"

"Why?! Why were they going to Nipton?!"

"I don't know!" He wailed. "I don't _know!"_

"Brianna!" Sunny's voice was stern, knocking her back to her senses. "Leave him. You know everything you need to know. Just let him be."

She shot an icy glare at the cowering Deputy but reluctantly lowered her fists. "We're heading to Nipton first thing tomorrow morning."

Meyers clapped his hands together. "It's been real nice, girlies. Hopefully I'll see you 'round sometime. Now, I gotta get back to runnin' this damn town and talkin' some sense into those who find themselves incapable of doing so in my place. Safe travels now. Hope you get what yer lookin' for, darlin'. And you too, Miss Smiles, whatever that might be."

Before she returned to the bar, Brianna fired three bullets into Deputy Beagle's foot.

* * *

><p>They joined the Nash family for a pleasant dinner in the bar. The two were a sweet couple, so much that Brianna actually enjoyed their company for a while as they ate. The radscorpion gland casserole smelled delicious, but Ruby smacked it out of Brianna's hand before she could put it in her mouth. "You have a busted lip, sweetheart," the old lady warned. "If that radscorp' poison hits your bloodstream it'll kill you stone dead. Here, you can have my potatoes."<p>

They left the bar at eleven with the promise of a free room waiting for them upstairs.

Sunny flopped down on the bed, Cheyenne leaping up to lie with her master. Much to Brianna's surprise, the place was actually quite nice in its own shabby, unkempt way. A working light bulb hung from the ceiling and two posters decorated the walls, one with a beautiful woman in a white dress, and the other of a handsome man with huge hair and a strange suit. The room even came with two-hundred-year-old chocolates beneath their pillows, which she happily scoffed.

"So, what do you plan on doing next?" Sunny asked from below Cheyenne, now lying comfortably on top of her.

"I plan on having a bath," she replied, stripping off her armour and kicking it away before heading to the bathtub in the en suite. After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of trickling water, Brianna called, "It's warm! We have hot water!"

Sunny cheered from the bedroom.

"Feel free to join me if you want."

"Pass."

She was smiling to herself right up until she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. She paused, hugging her torso and examining her reflection. The scar looked better, at least, losing its rough texture as it healed. The rest of her cuts and bruises were slowly healing, which was surely a good sign. Being able to stomach her reflection was an interesting change from the last few months, enough for her to think that maybe somehow she'd fix this. She'd been shot in the head, sure, but New Vegas was the place that had really taken her life. Heading back there with a new goal in mind, with a bullet scar and a smile on her face, with a chirpy blonde and a playful dog at her side, maybe that would make all the difference in the world for her. Maybe then she could play the hand she'd been dealt.

She hoped so.

"Mind bringing me a medkit?" Brianna called, picking up the brush from the windowsill and raking it through her hair.

Sunny appeared at the door, medical kit in hand. Her eyes shot fully open when she caught sight of her naked companion.

Brianna pulled a face, retrieving the medkit from Sunny's outstretched hand. Her companions's eyes were screwed tightly shut. "Sorry, sorry," she laughed, rooting for a stimpak. "Usually it doesn't take this long for me and my 'travelling buddies' to see each other naked."

"It's fine," Sunny assured her, backing out of the bathroom. "But I'm totally okay with us never reaching that stage of comfort, okay? Not that you don't look great- _fine, _I mean, not great, I mean you look fine naked- I mean, no, not fine like _fine -_ you look completely fine and natural and not mutated or anything- good, you look good, but I just don't really-"

"Don't strain yourself," she said, rolling her eyes and sinking into the bath. The painkillers were working wonderfully already. "You can come back in."

She did, finally opening her eyes and sitting herself down on the toilet seat. "Sorry, you just caught me a little by surprise there."

"It's not that big a deal," she assured her, closing her eyes and sinking back. "Most people I travel with are usually pretty happy with the sight, though."

"Can we, uh, change the subject?"

"Go ahead."

"Y'know, I think I'm dealing with this whole one-handed thing pretty well," she offered.

Brianna found this topic more than suitable. "You are?"

"Yeah, I mean, it hasn't been easy - Doc said I'd have a phantom hand thing going on for a while. I can still feel my fingers sometimes. I wake up in the morning and I swear I'm moving them. And God, it's itchy. The wrist I mean, but sometimes the invisi-fingers too. But overall, I guess I'm not doing too badly."

Brianna was stunned for a moment by the wave of relief that washed over her. "Wow, that's- that's great. And, um, you know I'm sorry about all that, right? I didn't think things would get so bad."

"Hey, it's fine. You were right about what you said to Mitchell. I knew what I was getting into."

"You heard that?"

"Yeah, I did. It was kind of sweet, actually."

Brianna pursed her lips, staring down at her knees as she drew them up tight to her bare chest. "That was bullshit, Sunny. The whole thing. I knew you could die, I knew I could die. Me or you or anyone else out there. I knew that people would get hurt. I knew that maybe you had no idea of how bad things would be, that you didn't have a lot of experience with people like the Powder Gangers. I just didn't care. I almost got you killed today and I didn't care. You didn't want me taking out those convicts at the NCRCF and I didn't give a shit. That's the pure honest-to-God truth. So why are you still here? We're not heading anywhere exciting - Nipton's one of the seediest places I've ever been. You don't want to sleep with me, obviously. You're too nice to have any ulterior motive. So what gives?"

She shrugged. "I haven't figured that out yet, actually. I just like you. Not because I wanna fix you or anything. I just like how you are. I like who you might be, underneath the whole 'scary wastelander' thing. And if a scary wastelander is all you are, then I guess I like that too. Sometimes you scare me a little bit. And you make me worried as hell because I know for a fact that you aren't coping with what happened to you. Maybe I'm just hanging around so you don't get hurt. Maybe I like the free food and the fact that I don't have to get a job. If you're happy with me tagging along, does it really matter?"

She smiled, reaching for a strange bottle at the edge of the bath that was full of pink liquid. "Nah. It doesn't."

Sunny beamed, watching as she dumped the contents of the bottle into the water, still letting the tap run freely. Brianna's eyes widened with fascination as bubbles began to form, rising in soapy mountains around her. She sank down deeper into the water, letting the bubbles wrap around her like a foamy blanket, the steam lifting an invisible weight from her body. She could have fallen asleep right there. But she still had one more question to ask.

"What happened out there with the hostages? You've only got one cut on your face, Sunny, and it's a perfect straight line. Like you didn't fight back."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh, come on."

"Okay, okay. I knew the guy, alright? I didn't realise who it was, not at first, but I was fighting them off, and his face just-"

"Who was he?

"It doesn't matter."

"Sunny-"

"It doesn't matter, Brianna!"

She got up. The bathroom door slammed behind her. It only took a second for the ringing silence to return.


	9. Out With A Whimper

**A NEW VEGAS KNOCK-OFF**

**JULY 21**

**07:26**

She was shoved from bed as the first rays of sunlight peered in from tattered curtains. The sound of running water could be heard from far away. Brianna groaned as her headache made itself known again, thumping fiercely against her temples. Her eyelids were heavy from the fog of early morning grogginess as she forced her exhausted limbs to cooperate. She pulled herself upright, drawing up her legs and running her hands across the smooth skin, shaved and moisturised and wonderful. Burying her face in her knees and breathing in the scent of strawberry lotion helped ease the pain.

Eventually she managed to pull on her freshly scrubbed armour, now smelling deliciously of apple soap. Her limbs were leaden from hours of being blissfully dormant. She found Cheyenne guarding the bathroom door and wondered if she stood a chance against the loyal German Shepherd. Deciding to chance it, she moved for the door and slowly turned the handle. They stared at each other, unblinking, as she pushed the door open. The dog moved away without a sound of protest, allowing her to slip inside.

"Woah, do you mind?!" Sunny squeaked, reflexively moving to cover up her bare chest and sink down low into the bath, hiding within the bubbles.

"I gotta brush my teeth," Brianna defended, raising her hands in a mock display of innocence.

"Would arguing with you be pointless and needlessly time-consuming?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Just _don't_ look."

* * *

><p>They were quick to get ready after that. Brianna helped Sunny with her armour, but she'd been too embarrassed to ask for any help with drying her hair. That hadn't stopped Brianna from tackling her and ravaging her head with a towel, though. They spent another half hour sitting on the bed with Cheyenne and rationing what remained of their food and water supply, the radio whispering soft lyrics in the background about beginning again in the night. It wasn't long before they were off again, singing along to whatever pre-war crap was playing on Brianna's Pip-Boy as they returned to the NCR encampment just outside of Primm.<p>

"Hey, where do you two think you're going?"

Brianna stopped, her hand instinctively tensing on the butt of her pistol as she looked around to see the familiar angry face of the NCR soldier from earlier.

"Uh, problem, Corporal?"

"Lieutenant," he spat, "and yes, I'm afraid there is a problem. You two directly disobeyed NCR orders, endangered not only the hostages in Primm, but also our troops out here, and those further out in the Mojave Outpost. Not only that, but you've sent us an ex-convict to take over Primm. This is an outrageous defiance against the New California Republic, citizens, and we will not take this lightly."

"And by that you mean that you desperately needed our help and now you're pretending that-"

"We're very sorry, Lieutenant, but I assure you that we only wanted to help," Sunny interjected.

"Help? In what way could you possibly have been trying to help us? By blowing up the only thing that was separating those convicts from our exhausted troops and stopping them from progressing further on towards the Outpost? What you two did was nothing but barefaced rebellion against the New California Republic, and we are in no longer in any position to take such offences lightly," he reiterated, his expression stony.

"What offences?" Brianna snapped, beating Sunny to the punch. "Did we hurt your feelings, Lieutenant? Pissed off because you can't take us to the firing line?"

"You both committed acts of violence and murder by taking the law into your own hands and killing those convicts in an unnecessary, unprovoked attack, going strictly against NCR orders."

"You never even tried to stop me! You were desperate!"

"Can we all just calm down?!" Sunny squeaked, standing on the balls of her feet in a futile attempt to make herself seem taller.

"This is your first and final warning. These are dire times - any action against the NCR will no longer be tolerated. Another offence and you will both be marked as enemies to the NCR and we will shoot you down on sight."

"So you _are _shooting civilians now, is that it? Because you're just too desperate to even-"

A stinging slap to the face threw her off-balance. "You watch your mouth around me, girl. I am a Lieutenant of the New California Republic and you will treat me with respect, do you hear me?!"

"Lieutenant, I think that's enough," the trooper on lookout called from his position. "You can't shoot her down just for having a mouth on her. Just let her past and save yourself the trouble."

Brianna held the right side of her face and shot the Lieutenant a cold glare. "Son of a b-"

"Brianna, leave it," Sunny hissed, before looking apologetically at the Lieutenant. "We're very, very sorry about this. It won't happen again."

They continued on without a word until the blur of mud-coloured tents were far behind them.

"Okay, what was that?!" Sunny demanded, folding her arms and looking expectantly at Brianna. "I get that you have this 'thing' where you don't want to play by anybody else's rules, but dammit, Brianna, what were you even thinking? I know you don't want to realise this, but the NCR are _above _us. They're an army_, _okay? And then you go and try to piss every single one of them off! You just can't _do_ that!"

"Look, I wasn't prepared to sit and wait for those convicts to pack up and leave, I was just doing what I had to. You know as well as I do that he only gave us that stupid 'warning' so he didn't look desperate."

"You don't care about anybody but yourself, do you? You have no regard for anyone else; you don't think about a single damn thing that you do! They had every right to line us up against a wall and shoot us for what we did, whether you agree with them or not - and sometimes it just doesn't matter how _you_ feel! Just use your head for once before you get us both killed, alright?!"

Brianna was silent for a minute. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"What?"

"That little speech, that wasn't just about Primm. Was it about last night? That thing with the-"

"Maybe I was stupid last night, talking about how much I loved hanging around with you. I thought we were friends, but if you don't want that, then maybe I should just leave. We can trade our stuff at the Outpost, you can give me some caps to pay for my amputation, and then I'll get out of your way. I'm sorry that I expected anything more than that. I really am."

"Sunny, I-"

She couldn't find a single word that didn't mean an apology. And an apology meant... that she was sorry. There was no subtext, no ulterior motive behind the words. She was just afraid to say them. "I'm sorry, Sunny." The words tasted sickly sweet on her tongue. "I don't know what I did, but I know for a fact that I wouldn't survive another day without your stupid face and your stupid dog."

"Really? You're admitting that?"

"Hey, don't laugh at me!"

"You're such a dweeb," she sniggered. "Brianna O'Reilly is a sad old nerd who can't survive without her best friend, Sunny Smiles!"

"Shut up," she hissed, spotting a blurred shape in the near distance, right out by an old building just ahead.

"Oh come on, it's fu-" She reached for her binoculars as Cheyenne began to growl. "Convicts?"

"Jackals."

"Crap."

"Hey, just because they're chem-runners doesn't mean bullets won't mow them down."

She readied her rifle and pressed the scope to her eye. She'd been hassled enough already by packs of raiding scumbags and she was done with hesitation. She lined up the shot, aiming for the torso of a woman with a ridiculous purple mohawk. The shot sent her straight to the ground.

A chorus of gunfire erupted from behind them. Sunny spun on her heels, gun at the ready. Cheyenne bounded in the opposite direction, where the first group was rapidly approaching. This was an ambush. She cursed loudly, focusing on the attackers behind her. Most had knives and cleavers, though two were armed with pistols. She took down the first shooter with a shot to the head. Sunny's bullet skimmed the leg of the second before another caught him between the eyes. She rushed to her dog's aid, picking off the original band of raiders and leaving Brianna to fend for herself. She finished off two more with a spray of bullets before her rifle gave a dry click. She groped around her belt for another magazine, but found only a case of bobby pins. Throwing the weapon over her shoulder, she reached for her pistol.

A searing pain cut through her right arm. A hard blow to the leg sent her down. She was yanked up by the hair. Something icy was biting at her throat.

"Stay back, blondie, or I'll fucking kill her!" Threatened her captor, boasting all the dauntless confidence of a guy hopped up on psycho. She could feel his bulging muscles pressing tightly against her, nearly crushing her bones beneath his weight. She struggled feebly against the unnatural strength of grip, whimpering in pain as his grip tightened around her. She knew this drug far too well. Her best friend had been an addict. It made the user feel unstoppable, indestructible. It strengthened the muscles, sent the senses into overdrive. It could save lives or end them, and she knew exactly what this outcome would be.

Sunny put a bullet through the final attacking convict's head, keeping her gun half-raised as she tried to process the situation. The cleaver cut into Brianna's throat. She felt a trickle of warm liquid flowing down her neck, felt her knees buckle beneath her as the drugged-up criminal held her upright. "I'm gonna keep this one!" He shouted. She could sense the grin that came with the threat. "Go on, run away, blondie! What, you don't know how things work out here?! Your friend's mine! Scram!"

"No!" She struggled as hard as she could, kicking his shins, trying to bite his arms. "Sunny! Sunny, run!"

But she wouldn't. Despite her desperate screams, Sunny stayed put. Her gaze was fixated on a spot in the distance.

She nodded.

Blood sprayed Brianna's face as Cheyenne ripped into the convict's throat. His grip on the cleaver loosened. The blade dragged across her skin. She was still bleeding. She was _dying._ She didn't know what to do or how bad the wound was and hadn't she seen this in a movie before somebody had told her what to do here she knew what to do all you had to do was put pressure on it but blood was spilling between her fingers-

_No no no no no no no no no no no no no._

She collapsed into Sunny's arms. Felt herself being lowered down. Rummaging, scraping, hands against her neck, something warm and comfortable for a moment before it was strangling her, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe or speak she was gasping screaming she-

"Shit," she croaked, her vision spinning as she attempted to grip the sand to steady herself, feeling it run hopelessly through her fingers.

_You're okay it's okay you're overreacting just stay calm you can do this no no no no no no can'tcan'tcan'tcan't-_

A cut throat and a shot open head and a bleeding leg and it was too much and she couldn't- she couldn't - she couldn't cope she couldn't breathe she was blind and she was choking and sobbing and the sand flowed through her fingers and in her hair and she couldn't do it and why couldn't she breathe and-

"Brianna? Brianna, are you okay?"

She reached for comfort, pulling herself up and into Sunny's arms as she gasped for air. She was staring into the barrel of a pistol, she - she could smell the smoke in the air and hear the explosions going off around her. God, there was just so much and she never cared and never cared and now-

"I don't - know - what to do," she gasped between sobs, her body trembling and her heart was beating in quick palpitations and it slowed and stopped and accelerated and slowed and stopped and her head pounded and everything hurt and-

"It's alright. You're safe, he's gone."

_Shutupshutupshutup._

She fought for breath, but everything was too loud and too bright and it was all too much and she couldn't keep her eyes open. Sunny's hushed voice was screaming at her and she had to get up because this was not the woman she was why couldn't she just shut up and just breathe just breathe just breathe just-

"Just breathe. Breathe slowly."

Okay. She could do that. Just breathe slowly. In. Out. Slowly. Calmly. She was overreacting. She just had to breathe. Just breathe. Just open her eyes. Just breathe. Just breathe. Slowly. In and out. Just breathe because she couldn't keep making a fool of herself and she was the strong one and she just had to get up she just had to breathe she had to get up now she had to breathe, breathe, breathe.

She just breathed.

"I- I'm okay. I'm alright. Th- thank you. Thank you."

* * *

><p>"What are these?" Brianna wondered aloud, running a hand along the peeling black and white paintwork of a strange car with lights on top. The road to the Mojave Outpost was an interminable upwards slope, overloaded with pre-war vehicles of all shapes and sizes that kept her visibly fascinated for most of the journey. She'd seen plenty of these before, of course, but Sunny seemed eager to talk about them, so Brianna was just as happy to ask questions.<p>

"That's a police car," she informed her. "Y'know, for the law enforcers back in the day. People who drove around and stopped crime."

"Vigilantes?" She asked, feigning confusion.

Sunny laughed. "The non-violent kind. They didn't actually kill people - or they weren't supposed to, anyway."

"So what did they do with criminals?"

"They arrested them," she explained. "Put 'em in handcuffs then locked them behind bars. You know, like the NCR are trying to do."

"Huh. Weird." Her attention was drawn from the car when she found an even larger vehicle. It was oddly shaped: the front of it looked like the front of a car, but larger, and the rest was a long straight line of metal carrying a massive container of some sort. She had no words to describe it properly. "You like the Old World, right? Then what's that called?"

"That is a-" She began matter-of-factly, squinting at the vehicle. "I don't actually know."

"Pre-war days must've sucked," she decided.

"Seriously? Pre-war days must've been perfect. Clean water, food, shelter, no radiation, that's just the start of it. People were happy. They had jobs that didn't involve hurting people. They had schools! Can you imagine sitting in a classroom with all this knowledge just waiting for you? There were so many kids, so much stuff to do. People could see movies and plays - God, imagine what a stage performance would be like. And what else? Stores! Fully stocked non-raided stores where you could buy anything you wanted just because you wanted to. Plants! Books! Dogs! You don't see a lot of those things around. No slavery, no murder, no FEV mutants and civil war."

"No, no, just a global war that devastated the earth. Puppies, kittens, those things are great, but don't kid yourself. The people back then weren't perfect. They were afraid. Nuclear war doesn't just break out for no reason, Sunny. People were still murderous and greedy even back then, except now we're all upfront about it. Besides, it would've been boring. You'd never get to fight anyone without being arrested by police, right?"

"Really? That's your argument? No fighting?"

"No _living._ No exploring. Aeroplanes cost money to go in."

"You could get a job."

"What pre-war job do you think I'd be suited for, then?"

Sunny looked at her for a moment, deciding. "I can see you in a rock band."

"Now _there's _a good argument. They don't have rock in this apocalyptic 1950s hellscape!"

"You've never heard rock? Not even one song?"

She grinned. "I found a record store once."

"No way."

"Working jukebox and everything, whole place was pristine."

"Liar!"

"I swear!"

"Dammit! That's just cruel," she grumbled. "Now I'll never die happy. Oh, dying happy! That's another good point about pre-war days."

"But _families," _she argued with a dramatic shudder. "I know the actual '50s were a long time ago, but you've seen the billboards, right? Nothing but those stupid smiley model moms making dinner for their snotty brats while their husband goes to work. If that's the kind of thing for you, that's fine, but if someone came at me with a frilly apron and a polka-dot dress I'd but a bullet in them."

Sunny snorted. "Actually, I think you'd look good as a housewife. Maybe a murderous one with a bloody rolling pin."

"You know what? Forget about this stupid revenge thing. I think I'll go find myself a frying pan and a nice pair of kitten heels."

* * *

><p>"Well, this is it."<p>

The Mojave Outpost was nothing remarkable, consisting of only two buildings and far too many travelling caravans. Traders of all sorts were passing through, selling their wares or resting themselves in an enclosed strip of land around the main office building, a shoddy brick structure with peeling white paint. The bar was just beside it, surrounded by a chain link fence. Brianna spotted an NCR sniper nested on the top of the building, leaning over an upturned wooden table and scanning the road below through her scope. Dotted around the area were a few brahmin and broken down caravans that hadn't moved in decades. The place hadn't grown any more welcoming since the last time she'd stopped by.

They made a beeline for the bar, going unnoticed by the surrounding caravaneers and mercenaries who scurried like rats through the fence. The entire structure was a brahmin ranch gone wrong, with travellers and merchants being herded in like cattle and making just as much noise.

Sunny pushed the door open, followed by Brianna and Cheyenne. Only a few people sat at the bar, none looking up from their drinks to welcome the latest newcomers. A barmaid was polishing glasses from behind the counter and a red-haired woman was hunched over the bar, staring blankly at her glass of whiskey. Red hair, brown leather jacket, chequered shirt. From behind, she almost looked like-

"Cass?" She moved for the bar, swinging her legs over the nearest seat.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy looked up from her drink with a disgruntled expression. She eyed the courier for a moment, an eyebrow raising as the faintest trace of recognition flickered behind her cautiously narrowed eyes. "Brianna O'Reilly?"

"Who else?"

"Thought you were dead," she mumbled. "Thought the wasteland got ya."

"Looks like it got you first."

Cass sighed. "Shit got bad, alright? Fuckin' caravan's gone, burned to ash along with the driver, and they didn't even take the cargo. They just burned that too. I barely got out with my ass still intact. Bastards kept takin' shots at me 'til I was real far away. Guess that's just my luck, huh? Letting you go off and play vigilante in DC 'steada savin' my sorry ass. So here I am, drinkin' away my sorrows just like I always did. 'Cept now I've got nothin' but the drink." A smile flickered on her lips. "Remember that song, Bree? I got heartaches by the number."

"Troubles by the score?"

"Every day you love me less is the day I love y' more." She smirked. "You always hated that damn song. Hell, can't even remember the last time I sang it."

"Jesus Christ, Cass. What the hell happened to you?"

"Finally!" She exclaimed. "I'm gettin' real sick and tired of hearing stuffy NCR assholes passing through, hitting on me and telling me how sorry they are that my life is fucked. But you were always different. Glad to see the Renegades didn't turn you into a complete daisy like the rest of these weeds out here." She knocked back another drink. "Haven't missed you one bit."

"Bullshit."

Sunny gave the two a wave to remind them that she was here. "Hi," she smiled, glancing at Brianna for confirmation. "Friend of yours?"

"Who-?" Cass shook her head, signalling to the barmaid for another drink. "Whatever. I'm drinkin' to forget, and I'd like to do that in peace."

"That'll be your last one, Cass," the barmaid warned.

"Whatever the fuck you wanna think, Lacey," she shot back.

Brianna shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering how to proceed.

She swiped the bottle out of Cass' hand.

"What the-?" She slammed her fist down on the table and rose to her feet. "Gimme my fucking drink and get outta this place if you like the shape of your nose."

Brianna stood up. "What happened to you, Cass? What happened? Because I don't believe for a second that you just gave up after losing the caravan."

"Ain't none of your business, Bree. Back off."

"Come with us. Come _with_ _us_, Cass."

"And why would I wanna do that?"

"Maybe so you don't drown yourself in whisky for a start. I don't care where you go after, but you aren't staying here."

"I can't, alright? Contract stills keeps me here even though it's burned to ash."

"Then forget the contract. They don't hold anything over you. They can't keep you here."

"Yeah, they can. Just try telling Jackson to let me loose_. '_Roads are too dangerous' he says. 'You'll get killed if you go out there'. Like, no shit. I didn't spend the last five years holed up in a fucking bunker, I know what the roads are like! Washed out old fuck-up." At this point she was slurring her words and leaning against the bar for support as her legs wobbled beneath her.

It was Sunny's turn to pitch in. "Hey, you've been through a lot and they have no right to keep you here, no matter what they say. Your contract's dead and gone, just like you said. And no offence, but you're not exactly doing anything out here, so why would they bother tracking you down if you just, you know, disappeared?"

"Look, kid, there's nothing else for me now, not out there and not in here."

Brianna slid the drink towards her. "Fine. Have fun rotting from the inside out."

"Right, right, 'cause that's worse than joining you and your little buddy." Cass rolled her eyes. "Who is she, anyway, one of those romantic flings that always work out so well?" She turned to Sunny. "Listen to me, kid. Brianna O'Reilly's friends have very short life spans. Brianna O'Reilly's fuck buddies don't last much longer. Do yourself a favour and get gone while you still can."

"I'm not taking advice from a washed-up caravaneer with a foul mouth and a bad attitude," Sunny retorted.

"Woah, woah, woah, what did you just say to me? 'Cause you sure as hell have my attention now."

"Get on your feet, go on. Let's see how long you can stay upright."

"Keep talkin' to me like, sweetie, and I will make myself your worst fucking nightmare. I'm not gonna say it again. Get out."


	10. Ain't No Maker to Meet

**MOJAVE OUTPOST**

**JULY 21**

**NOON**

_"_What kind of twisted asshole would send an albino to the Mojave desert?" Brianna wondered, heading up the wooden ramp to the sniper's nest.

"What kind of ignorant asshole would sneak up behind an elite NCR sniper, loudly mock her and expect to turn around and walk away with their head still intact?"

"Ooooh, apologies, trooper, please don't shoot." She raised her hands in a mocking display of fear before making herself comfortable atop the nearest rickety table.

"Mmm, very funny. What do you want, civilians?"

"That smoke trail, is it coming from Nipton?"

"That's what Jackson seems to think, but I'm not so certain. I've been watching closely for a couple of days and I haven't seen any convicts heading up from the NCRCF. None of 'em could get here through Novac without Ranger Station Charlie doing something about it. Or at least, that's what we thought. That station's been quiet for a while now and we don't have the soldiers or supplies to go out and see what's going on. Wish I could tell you more, but we're dead in the dark here. Seems like all we can do is turn a blind eye to gang territory and wait for the Legion to kill us in our sleep. And all I can do is sit up here and watch."

"You don't think the attackers came from the East, do you?"

"Legion, this far out? Doesn't seem likely, but at this point- hell, I don't know. I don't know a goddamn thing. Look, if you're heading out that way, could you do me a favour? Head back here and let me know what's going on. It's not the easiest journey, I know, but I'll compensate you if I can. If you're right, if it _is_ Legion, we need to know as soon as possible."

"If it's Legion, we might not make it back."

"I'm not asking you to put your lives on the line. If there's trouble, scram. It's in your best interests."

* * *

><p>"You don't think it'll be Legion, do you?" Sunny asked as they made their way down the hill.<p>

"No," she replied, wishing she could believe it. "There's gotta be some way those convicts made it this far out."

"Yeah, you're right. God, it's been so long since I've been this far out of Goodsprings. I knew things were bad out here, but hearing news reports on the radio, that's one thing. It's different when you can see it all up close." She puffed out a sigh. "Your friend at the bar, at least that's one thing we can fix, right? If you want to go back for her, I don't mind."

"It's fine," she snapped. "Just fine."

"You don't wanna help her?"

"After everything she said, do you want me to?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind."

"Bullshit. I've never seen you look that angry."

"I didn't like the way she spoke to you."

"Doesn't matter. I've seen her kind before and they don't want help."

"Yeah. I understand." She let the conversation die, brightening up a few minutes later with another cheery topic. "So, what exactly have you been up to around here? You said something about vigilantes back in the NCRCF and now you're telling me you were running a caravan? Not to mention the courier job, obviously. You've been busy."

"I wasn't running the caravan," she corrected, "I was guarding it. Mercenary work, nothing special. It's how I met Cass."

"What was it like?"

"Are you actually interested or are you trying to break the silence?"

"I'm really interested," she assured her. "Seriously. You're strange and I wanna know more about you."

"Like?"

"Well, I don't know. Where are you from?"

She took a moment to answer. "DC. You know, Capital Wasteland?"

She pulled a face. "Yikes. Really? What was that like?"

"Like a fucking war zone. I mean that to the highest degree. You think the Mojave's bad? DC makes the Legion and NCR look like two toddlers fighting over a toy truck. The Brotherhood of Steel are a massive force back there, only thing keeping the people relatively safe. It's got Super Mutants crawling all over the place, ripping people apart, stealing them from their homes. And there were slaver camps further north." She shuddered. "Had a few bad experiences with those scumbags. Not much else apart from that, I guess. A lot of pre-war relics, some settlements here and there."

Sunny frowned. "That's weird. I thought you'd be more of a desert type or something."

"I am. That place was home to me for a long time, but not like the Mojave is. I never loved it like I love this place."

"There's the home you're given and the home you choose, right?"

"You could say that." She pursed her lips. "So what's the deal with you? You gonna tell me anything about where you came from? Who you are?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Then don't ask me any more questions."

"Sorry. I mean, I was just curious."

"Well don't expect me to open up when you don't tell me a damn thing about yourself."

"Jesus, I just- I'm sorry. You're right."

"Hey, uh-" She paused for a moment, forcing back the laughter on her lips. God, she loved this question. "What's a Jesus?"

Sunny blinked. "What?"

"No, seriously. The one time people don't take me seriously is when I ask them what a Jesus is. Can't just be a word you moan in bed. What's it mean?"

Sunny looked at her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "You've never heard of-? Really? You know what religion is, right?"

"I get the general idea. A man in the sky, a God who lives in a cave. Never actually heard of _a _religion, though."

"Wow. Well, Jesus comes from Christianity, I think. The son of God or something."

"What God? Seems like there's a different one everywhere you go."

_"The _God, I guess." She laughed. "Sorry. I've never had to explain this before. So you don't believe in the afterlife or anything like that?"

"Afterlife?"

"Y'know, when you die and come back as something else. Or you go to Heaven?"

"So, you come back as a gecko or something if-?" She shook her head. "You don't believe that crap, right?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I used to. Sort of."

"Used to? What happened?"

"Stuff. Stuff happened."

"Sounds ridiculous anyway. What kind of fucked up Jesus would let this happen? People before the war, they believed in stuff like that, right?"

Sunny nodded.

"And where are they now? Just skeletons buried in the sand."

* * *

><p><strong>WELCOME TO NIPTON - THE HAPPIEST LITTLE TOWN IN THE WORLD.<strong>

The town of Nipton was deserted. Mountains of rubber tires towered over the dilapidated buildings, some belching out smoke while others still burned bright. The acrid stench of burning rubber filled the air and two tall flags pierced the sky with flowing crimson, both planted firmly in the dying soil. Two golden bulls stood amongst a field of blood, waving proudly in the sky. Brianna's blood ran cold.

_Legion._

"What happened here?"

Her voice was stone as she eyed a twisted mailbox standing crooked outside the nearest building. Human teeth were scattered over the rusted metal. Brianna found somebody's right hand nailed to the front door of another house, middle finger raised. Cheyenne gave a sullen whine as they silently made their way towards the town hall. When they saw what lay ahead, they stopped.

Forced into the ground along both sides of the road were long wooden posts, besting the size of a grown man. Another shorter post was nailed transversely, so the completed design crudely resembled a cross. Streaks of red and brown stained the wood. Fresh blood pooled at their bases, glistening in the sunlight. At first, it seemed as if the world had fallen silent. Every trace of life that had existed outside this town had simply disappeared, leaving only two women to look upon the desolate street as if it was all they had ever known. That was when they heard the moaning. So quiet, so feeble that they could have mistaken it for a breath of wind. But the breeze had a name, and a pallid complexion, and it was repeating the same desperate word over and over again.

_"Please... Please..."_

"Oh my God," Sunny gasped, moving forward and allowing her eyes to meet those of the dying man mounted on the cross. A Powder Ganger. Brianna could just make out the familiar NCRCF label sewn at his chest, though blood stained the remains of his shredded blue clothing. He was bound by his wrists and torso with hempen rope, forcing his body to slump unnaturally. When Brianna found the woman to his right, she almost sobbed. She was a prostitute. Her leather skirt clung firmly to her blood-slick thighs, but the lacerations across her legs were not enough to distract from the centrepiece of this spectacle. The word _whore _had been sliced into her chest, the letters bleeding down her torso and dripping on the ground.

_"Yahoooooo!"_

She spun around, reaching for her pistol as a man skipped past them, a blur of pink and blue.

"I won! I won! I won the fuckin' lottery, man!" He grabbed Brianna by the shoulders, laughing with manic glee from behind a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses and a baseball cap. "Hi there! Good to see ya! God, smell that air! Couldn't ya just drink it like _booooze?!" _He threw his head back in a wild cackle before Brianna shoved him away, aiming between his eyes.

"What did you win?" She demanded. "What happened here?"

"Man, you are way too serious!"

"I asked you a question, fuckface. What lottery?"

_"The _lottery, babe! Are you _stupid?! _Only one that matters! Hell yeah!"

"Just leave him." Sunny's voice barely rose beyond a croak. "He won't help us."

She lowered the gun. "Go. Get outta here before I change my mind."

_"Yippppeeeeeee!" _He sang, running out of sight.

Sunny looked anxious as they continued down the road. The town hall stood ahead, two Legion banners flying high the air on either side of the large building.

"Looks like the Legion are still celebrating," Sunny remarked, her voice no more than a breath in the wind as Caesar's Legion approached.

They marched in as if from nowhere, three recruits on either side of the town hall moving silently into view, each one flawlessly military in appearance. Their armour consisted of a cuirass and leather skirt - Brianna couldn't think of it as anything else - and each wore their own black helmet, with large sunglasses to conceal the rest of their faces. A perfect imitation of the ancient Roman Empire, the two rows lined up on either side of each other, facing their opposing ally as the doors of the town hall swung open. An alarming figure swooped out into the light. This one was identical to the others, but wore the skin of a dog on his head. He was the only one to speak.

"Ah, finally. This is just what I've been waiting for." His voice was the surface of a frozen pond, smooth and glacial. "A wandering group of degenerates sent here to witness what has happened in this town. How... quaint. I see a cripple before me, with a snarling mongrel at her side. And who is their leader, I wonder? It must be the busty whore who wears that monstrous scar so proudly. Look at you. You both have weapons, and you stand so fearlessly before us. And yet, what do you do? You remain motionless, allowing me to continue on as I please. Just as I would expect."

"What happened here?" Brianna snarled.

"Justice. The town of Nipton you see before you was never anything more than a disgusting cesspit, a lecherous town of whores and profligates. Its dwellers would gladly lead their fellow neighbours into a Legion trap if such a thing promised reasonable pay. And they did, without hesitation. Little did they know that they themselves had been lured into the snare as well."

"What are you talking about? Some kind of lottery?"

"Yes. Some kind of lottery. We herded the residents of Nipton into the centre of town. It was quite simple - most followed without even the slightest restraint, believing no harm would fall upon them, that they would be rewarded for their efforts against the other degenerates in this town. After they realised how mistaken they were, we announced the lottery. Each clutched their ticket, watching as 'loved ones' were dragged away to be slaughtered. None raised a finger against us, nor said a word in protest. The lucky ones were decapitated. Others were crucified, displayed along the streets for all to see. The mayor had the honour of being burned at the stake. Two survived. Only one walked out of this town. The other resides somewhere within, his legs beaten and broken beyond repair."

"Why?" Sunny asked. "Why the does the Legion care about this place? Why bother?"

"The cripple asks the right question. This has been one of many lessons to follow. The Legion punishes the wicked, the cruel, the self-obsessed and the greedy. You see, we were seven people, ushering them into the square and dragging away their families, their lovers, their friends. They were forty, fifty in number, everyone but the children armed with some kind of weapon. And yet they did nothing. The ticket was all that mattered now. They obeyed the rules of the lottery like a herd of brahmin, and each one was given more mercy than they deserved."

"Sick fucks," Brianna spat.

"For that insult I could have both of you rounded up, tied together and sold as slaves. The amputee is useless, so we could sell her as a cheap prostitute for the lonely and desperate. Perhaps we could hold an auction for those who find themselves with a particular fetish for her kind. That hideous scar of yours might be off-putting, however. Maybe we could use your corpse as a training dummy for our newest recruits, or keep you alive in order to allow them a more realistic combat experience. A female gladiator would be the talk of the entire camp. And the canine will be beaten and starved until it is fierce and willing to rip the throats out of whoever stands against us." His mouth flickered with the ghost of a satisfied smirk.

She remained silent after that.

"Does that not sound pleasant? Good. I have a more important use for you degenerates. Take a walk. Memorize every detail of what you see here. Have a talk with some of our displays if you can. Then, I want you to retreat, to scamper back to the hill where the NCR hide behind their monument. Tell them what you saw here today. Make haste, if you would. Filthy creatures such as you do tend to die very quickly."

With a raise of his hand, the Legion troops surrounded him and they marched off as one.

When they were gone out of sight, Sunny produced her knife.

Brianna couldn't steady her voice. "What, you're gonna go after them with a kitchen knife?"

Her gaze was fixated on the crucified Powder Gangers. "We can't just leave them like that, Brianna. We can't."

"Do you remember what they did to you, Sunny?

"I-"

"You lost your hand because of them! Leave them. Let's just go back to the Outpost and let them suffer."

"No. They're bad people, I know that, and maybe they deserve what they got. Maybe they deserve to be crucified. But not by the Legion, Brianna. Not by them."

She moved towards the first Powder Ganger. Brianna's stomach knotted when she saw what was left of the dying man. He was little more than a husk of a person, his ribs visible through cracked and bleeding skin. His head lolled to one side and he seemed to lack the strength to keep his eyes open. He released a feeble groan of agony as Sunny moved to cut the ropes around his waist that bounded him to the cross.

"You'll kill him," Brianna warned. "He's dying from exposure."

"I know," she mumbled, continuing to saw through the ropes. "But it's a stand against the Legion, if nothing else. We're ruining their display."

They spent the following hour cutting the dying people down from their crosses. There was little conversation. Brianna turned the radio on to chase away the ringing in her ears, but the light music only made things worse. They found a few Powder Gangers with their eyes already pecked out by the circling ravens, which finally drove Sunny to break down and vomit between ugly sobs. Brianna gave up when she reached one of the final corpses, torn apart by the birds. That was when they decided to move on, and leave the smoking town of Nipton behind to rot.


	11. The Flames Only Spread

**SOMEWHERE IN THE MOJAVE DESERT**

**JULY 21**

**14:03**

"That's it, then. It's done. All because of Caesar's goddamn-"

"Legion, I know." Sunny huffed out a sigh as they continued along the road.

"What am I supposed to do now?!" She demanded. "There's nothing left for me."

"I'm sure we'll find another trail to follow. Someone else is bound to know something about Benny. Or you could, you know, give up."

_"Give up?"_

"I- I don't mean it in a bad way," she added hastily. "But do you really want to find him so badly? After everything that's happened so far- all the convict fights and the raiders and meeting Caesar's Legion this far west - do you really want to keep going? Because the only solid things we've taken from this journey so far have been more scars. Someone cut your throat and tried to take you prisoner. Someone tied me up and held a flamethrower to my head. Is revenge worth all that?"

"You think I went through all that for revenge? You think I risked my life over and over just so I could kill someone?"

Sunny didn't respond.

"I want to know what kind of part I was supposed to play in all of this. I wanna know what that chip is, what it does, why someone would try to kill me for it. I want to know why someone would see the name Brianna O'Reilly on a courier list and immediately back out of one the biggest jobs they were ever likely to get. I want answers, alright? And if I end up shooting Benny in the brain after I get them, fine. I won't complain about that."

"Are you thinking straight? You never _had_ an important part to play in all of this. You were a courier, remember? No one cares about the couriers, Brianna, what matters is the packages they carry. You can steal that Platinum Chip back from Benny, sure, but that won't make it yours. In the end, the only thing you'll be able to do is deliver it back to Mr. House. Why risk your life for just that?"

"Because I have to, Sunny!"

_"Why?"_

"Because what else do I have?" She croaked. She didn't know where this sudden flood of emotion had come from, but here it was. She'd been lying to herself. This whole time she'd been trying to convince herself that she could just set off into the wasteland on some stupid revenge mission, just to give herself some kind of purpose that existed outside of casinos and alleyways. She'd been lying to herself, lying to Sunny. It was time to tell the truth.

"Do you want to know where I came from? Why I spent months in New Vegas before I found that job? Do you want to know who I am, who I was?"

"Only if you're ready to tell me."

"I was a whore. I had nothing, I was nothing, I was a New Vegas whore. I got lucky at the tables one night, got far too cocky and far too full of chems. I got cornered. They beat me up, stripped me down, left me for dead. They took everything I had. I didn't want revenge, I didn't want answers, I didn't even want their names, because that was just something that happened to giddy girls in alleyways after dark. I just wanted to get home. I took whatever jobs I could get, but people thought I was unstable, they thought I was broken. But when you're out on the streets in lingerie, I learned that people don't care if you're damaged goods. That's all they expect.

"Maybe this doesn't make sense to you, but that's why I have to tangle myself up in all of this. Months and months of feeling like somebody else's vessel, somebody else's property, that does things to you. It makes you feel poisoned. It makes you feel angry, worthless, desperate to find something to live for. After half a year, I found it. Never mattered where I was, if I was bleeding in an alleyway or in some stranger's bed, I was always a courier. Those jobs meant everything in the world to me, and when I found out that I could go back to being who I was, I ran. I thought I'd been given my life back until someone knocked me out, tied me up and shot me in the head. So I don't care what I have to risk to get that life back again, to get that package back again. Right now, it's everything I am. So if I die on the way there, at least there'll be something left to kill."

"God, I- I didn't- I didn't know," Sunny said. "I'm sorry.

"Don't worry about it. I never planned on bringing it up."

"Hey, I understand. I know I haven't been the most honest person either and... do you wanna know where I was before Goodsprings?"

"Help me! God, please! Please!"

They stopped in their tracks. Brianna reached for her pistol.

"Oh my God." Sunny rushed off the road, Cheyenne running to join her. A man was lying just a few metres off the road, his dark, sun-beaten skin noticeably scratched and red with smears of blood as he attempted to crawl along the sand with his elbows. As she moved to join Sunny, she could see how his legs were and twisted at impossible angles, dragging uselessly behind him.

"Hey there, beautiful," he croaked, twisting his body around to look into Sunny's eyes. A filthy syringe was sticking out of his arm. "You're- you're broken too, huh? Still pretty - with just - one hand."

Sunny smiled, whispering empty reassurances as Brianna retrieved the medkit from her bag.

"Hey sweetie," she said, her voice soft and warm, like she was talking to a child. "What happened to you? Where did you come from?"

He responded with something that was half a giggle, have a sob.

"You think he knows something?" Brianna asked, kneeling beside him and rummaging for Med-X.

"It's alright," Sunny continued, ignoring the question and taking the syringe from her hand. She injected the painkiller before removing the old syringe and setting it aside. "That's just gonna help with the pain, okay? Now, I need you to tell me who did this to you. What happened?"

"Fuckin' Legion, man. That- that lottery thing, Jesus. I wanted outta there so bad. I got my ticket and they said I was a- like, a 'lucky loser' or something. Said I got to live, and I asked 'em if I could just go. They said I wouldn't be goin' fuckin' anywhere, and they beat me up and- beat my legs and- I just wanna go home, man. I can't walk no more. I want my mom. I want my mom but she's dead and- and my girlfriend's dead and- hey, hey, you got a pistol there, right? That'll do the job nicely."

"A- are you sure? We can help you, we can-"

"No we can't," Brianna interrupted. "He's dying, Sunny. There's nothing we can do for him."

"Stop," she hissed, getting to her feet. "Just stop."

"What, you think you can save him?"

"What is wrong with you?! He's dying, Brianna! I know that and so does he!"_  
><em>

"Then kill him! That's what he wants!"

"Everyone he loves is _dead. _Didn't you listen to a word he said? No, no, of course you didn't. Because every time someone needs your help, every time _I _need your help, you go right back to being this cold, hateful, stubborn _bitch _who just doesn't care at all."

"You really think this is the right time for a domestic?"

"His girlfriend is dead! His mom is dead!"

"Then shoot him in the head just like he wants. What the hell do you think you're trying to achieve by not putting him out of his misery?"

"What is _wrong _with you?!" She repeated. "God, I was right all along, wasn't I? You don't care about anyone but yourself! Nobody gets through to you! No one! As soon as I want to do something good for just _one _person, you just-"

"I just go back to being me, is that it? Is that your problem, Miss Holier-Than-Thou?" She gasped for breath, running her fingers through her tangled hair in desperation, searching for anything other than the words she would have to say. She didn't find what she was looking for. "Just go, Sunny. Just go. Take my fucking painkillers, take whatever you want, because it doesn't get any better than this. I know you think you can 'fix' people, save people, but you can't! You can't fix him and you certainly can't fix me!" She threw her bag down. "This is all I am, and I will never, _ever _be what you want. Don't follow me."

"You don't mean that!" She yelled, as Brianna left the dying man behind. "There's more to you than that, Brianna! Wait!"

She was already gone.

* * *

><p>"Tell me you're lying. For the love of God, civilian, tell me that's a joke."<p>

"What, are crucifixions and decapitations funny to you? I'm certainly not laughing."

"I'll send word to my superiors right away. I don't know how we can put a stop to this, but by God we'll try. Thanks for going out there. I promise I wouldn't have sent you if I thought you'd have to witness all that. You've done us a good turn, kid, and I'll make sure everyone knows about it." The sniper returned to her scope. "Your friend's back. The one with the dog."

"Great."

Brianna headed down the ramp to meet her.

"Boxcars knew Benny," Sunny reported. "He was passing through Novac with some Khans, but he wasn't sure why."

"Novac, huh?"

"Yep. Doesn't sound like a bad place, and we can stock up on some supplies. The sniper up there, she's gonna pay us for checking out Nipton, right?"

"Didn't ask."

"Then I will. Go get us something to eat."

* * *

><p>The bar was no more welcoming that it had been the last time they'd stopped by. The bartender, Lacey, promised Brianna two meals on the house for helping out Ghost - the sniper - and disappeared into the back room to prepare something. She sat herself down at the bar, helping herself to a bottle of water someone had left behind. Sunny had returned her bag of supplies as a silent peace-offering. The thought of their argument only intensified the pain in Brianna's head, which only got worse when Rose of Sharon Cassidy made her presence known again.<p>

"So," she began, "Nipton. How'd that work out for ya?"

"Look at you, still speaking in coherent sentences," Brianna shot back, not bothering to turn her head.

"Aw, don't hurt me like that," she giggled. "Y'know, I _was _thinkin' about joinin' you and that little blonde puppy you've got hangin' around. But then I thought-"

Brianna dumped her water over the cowgirl's head without a word of warning. Cass gave a high-pitched shriek.

"That clear your head a little? Sober you up enough so you can tell me exactly what it is you wanna say?"

"Jesus Christ, was it necessary?!" She spat, taking off her hat and shaking out the water. "All I was sayin' was that I was thinkin' about joinin' you. Not for good or anything, just to get out of this cesspit and away from the assholes who keep _fucking staring at me!"_

At that comment, some spectators at the corner of the room returned to their card game.

"Where y' headed?" She asked, wringing out her hair. "Actually, I don't care. Anywhere sounds pretty good to me. Just get me outta here."

"Why should I?"

"Because we're _friends," _she reminded her. "Or we were until you dumped me for the Capital Wasteland. Just leave me at the next town over or whatever, let me get back on my feet again. Hey, don't look at me like that, O'Reilly. What the hell do you want from me?"

"We're going to Novac."

"Wonderful. I'll pack my things."

* * *

><p><em>"Blue moon, you got me standing alone. Without a dream in my heart. Without a love of my own."<em>

God, having Rose of Sharon Cassidy at her side again was the strangest thing Brianna had ever experienced. The pair were ghosts haunting the deserted canyon passage, two faded images of a time that had passed on long ago. They used to sing together, tell jokes and stories to lift their spirits during long treks across the wasteland. Things had changed. Cass sang alone now, a few off-key bars of a song Brianna had half-forgotten. Brianna wasn't sure she knew this woman anymore. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"Legion's slowly creeping up on the NCR," Cass remarked. "Like a toxic cloud comin' in from the East. It'll be too late to stop 'em once their poison reaches the masses."

"War never changes," Brianna replied. "The Bull's impatient and the Bear's too thinly spread. Unless Mr. House has some kind of trick up his sleeve, we're gonna see a lot more towns going the way Nipton did."

Sunny nudged Brianna's arm, directing her attention towards a blurred figure skulking atop the canyon. His rifle moved slowly along the passage until the scope's amber eye locked on Brianna's. It lingered, then moved on.

"Blind bastard didn't see us or something," Cass suggested. "Better move qui-"

Her words were swallowed by a colossal _bang._ Brianna was thrown backwards into the air. Her head slammed down against something solid, leaving her disoriented long enough for the sniper to send another shot her way. She heard it ricochet against the vehicle behind her and scrambled to her feet, ears ringing. Cass was pulling at her wrist, sending a hand flying across her face. She snapped back into reality at the stinging blow.

"What are you waiting for?!" She yelled. "Move!"

Brianna felt her feet slamming against the road before she even realised she was running. Another shot cracked from far away. She threw herself behind the remains of a vehicle, feeling the wave of heat overcome her. Catching her breath for just a moment, she rested her head against the flat metal of the car, her eye catching something white and round just ahead of her, half-buried in the sand.

A frag mine.

"Run!" She screamed, scrambling to her feet and sprinting down the canyon. She heard Sunny curse somewhere next to her as a number of blurred figures came into view. It looked like more raiders had joined the party. Brianna readied her rifle and sent a chattering of gunfire in their direction, but they sped ceaselessly along the beaten track. She had no choice but to meet them in the middle, sending the closest raider down with a furious spit of bullets. As she fended off the unwelcome newcomers, Brianna spotted Cass taking a deep slug of whiskey before blowing out a nearby raider's midsection with her shotgun. Sunny did the best she could with the bullets she had, unable to reload without assistance. She burst through one raider's neck with smiling ease before twisting her body around to face another behind her. She ducked beneath the swipe of his baseball bat then drove her foot upwards into his groin. Cheyenne pounced on him as soon as his legs gave out, and Brianna saw no more of him.

Fire.

Venom-dripping teeth sank into her side, tearing through fabric and skin. Her eyes shot upwards into the glassy pin-pricks of the raider with the crowbar. He swung for her again, biting once more into her side with the pointed tips of the rusty weapon. With a cry of pain, she shouldered her rifle and reached for her knife, swiping at his eyes as he dug the crowbar further and further into her flesh. She barely managed to graze him. He dislodged the weapon, giving her a few precious seconds to flee, but the iron was slammed across her head before she could pull back. She felt nothing but force and heat - another blast in the distance - and sand in her hair, blood on her tongue, pounding in her head.

Someone pulled her to her feet and she was running again, setting her insides alight with every gasp of breath. The world was a whirlwind and she was tumbling through a spinning maze, a piercing kaleidoscope of sky and flame until the canyon was behind her and her legs gave in. She fell into Sunny's arms, barely aware of the woman's presence behind her as she struggled to catch her breath. They helped each other to the ground and sat until they could speak again, soon followed by a panting Cass and Cheyenne.

"NCR fucks!" Cass managed, wiping the sweat from her brow and leaning back against the canyon wall. "Can't even walk the length of their own dicks! Thought they woulda ran the raiders outta here a long time ago, goddamn it." She took another minute to gather herself before continuing, "That green spot over there, you think that's a tourist attraction? 'Cause I think we might be looking at Novac."


	12. They Went That-A-Way!

**NOVAC**

**JULY 21**

**17:04**

Like most of the other settlements around the Mojave, Novac did little to live up to its name as a town. Named after the busted neon sign that had once flashed NO VACANCY, it consisted of a small square of tiny houses and a block of motel rooms smacked in the centre. The town's main attraction was the huge lizard that towered above the dilapidated structures below. For once, Brianna didn't feel obligated to question the point of such a hideous monstrosity that called itself a 'tourist attraction'. She found herself somewhat distracted by the mobilised television that was wheeling its way towards them.

"Well howdy, buckaroo!"

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Can't say I rightly know, partner," said the cheery robot from Goodsprings. "See, I started feelin' this urge to roll on over to New Vegas, so New Vegas is where I'm rollin'!"

"I don't like being followed, robot."

"Hey now, there's only one road leading up to New Vegas, so we're bound to run into each other from time to time, right?"

"Maybe I'm not going to New Vegas."

"Well if you ain't, partner, yer still on the right trail. Maybe you'd fancy a drink with ol' Victor if you ever make your way on up there!"

"Thanks a bunch for digging me out of my own grave, _partner, _but I don't need you hanging around anymore."

"Even robots need to stop and rest their haunches for a while, partner."

She shot Sunny an uneasy glance as Cass asked, "What was that about a grave?"

"I know, I know, people might start to talk if they keep seein' us getting caught up like this," Victor said bashfully, "but what's little Dorothy without her Tin Man? Now, I know this might seem sudden, but how about we travel together? Victor, Bree-Anna, and all your little friends here!"

"So now a New Vegas Securitron knows my name - fantastic."

"Well, buckaroo, if we're gonna be travelin' down the same dusty road I thought it would be best that I learnt it!"

"Hey, I never said-"

"Maybe," Sunny interjected, "it wouldn't be a bad idea to have him follow us around. I've heard House's robots are pretty tough."

"Exactly, little blonde buckaroo! And what harm could old Victor do?"

"Well, I don't buy it," Cass decided. "Someone sends a stupid, drawlin' Vegas 'bot to follow you around for the kicks, that doesn't sound right to me."

"Now, now, cowgirl, let's go easy. I won't do you any harm. I don't even mind helpin' you little trailhands along the road. I'll just wait here 'til you've finished up your business so I can protect you from all those nasty wasteland critters when we hit the road!"

"Fine, but you keep your sorry ass sittin' down until we're done here."

* * *

><p>The Dino Dee-Lite motel lobby was, unsurprisingly, no improvement to the overall shabbiness of the rest of the town. Brianna felt a migraine setting in as soon as she walked through the door, greeted by peeling brown wallpaper, dusty old surfaces and, most prominently, a welcoming voice that challenged the frequency of a dying bloatfly. An elderly woman sat hunched over on a swivel chair behind her desk, greeting them with a nasally "Hello, dearies!"<p>

"Hi!" Sunny chirped. "I was wondering if you have any rooms left? Two or three would be great if you have them, thank you."

The woman stood up from her chair and bustled over from behind the desk, revealing the entirety of her frail, weathered form. Her eyes were enlarged by a pair of round glasses and her face was as white and wrinkled as a washed-up corpse. "Now, now, now, of course, of course. It's not very often we have such _unusual_ visitors poking around here. You aren't passing by for trade, are you?"

"We're looking for information," Brianna replied.

The woman _aahed _in understanding. "Well, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"We didn't tell you what we wanted-"

"It isn't my business, nor my place to get involved."

"You run a motel," Cass pointed out. "You gotta know a lot about what's going on around here, right?"

"I don't snoop around, if that's what you're asking."

"We just want-"

"Buy a room, or get out."

Cass raised an eyebrow. "You hidin' something, missy?"

She gritted her teeth and replied carefully, "Would you like a room or not?"

"Uh, yes please," Sunny smiled sheepishly. "Three."

"Of course. That'll be three hundred caps."

They faltered. Brianna turned to Cass hopefully, who replied with a shake of her head.

"Uh, we could pay it off," Sunny suggested, fumbling in the pockets of her armour. "I have around a hundred on me. Maybe we could-"

"Three hundred," the old lady repeated, "or get out."

* * *

><p>"It's a dinosaur," Sunny explained. "Or at least, that's what they call him. Dinky the Dino, or something like that."<p>

"And it's supposed to be a tourist attraction? I ain't really seeing the appeal."

"Can't say I am either."

Sunny was the first to ascend the metal stairs into the giant dinosaur statue, following the neon sign that spelled out _Dino Dee-Lite Motel and Gift Shop. _Brianna's hope of finding some answers from the store owner disappeared as soon as she stepped inside, almost slipping on a tin of green paint that was spilled over the tiles. The same neon colour was splashed about the walls, matching the colour of piles upon piles of miniature dinosaur figurines. On wall-mounted shelves, on bookcases, on the counter, no surface was safe from the tiny replicas of Dinky the Dino.

"Uh, hi," Sunny said, giving the man a tiny wave.

"Hello there, weary travellers!" The store clerk greeted. Bald, dark-skinned and clad in paint-splattered blue overalls, he stood behind the desk and dabbed some fresh paint over one of the hideous figurines. An ungodly amount of the plastic disasters were heaped behind him. "I'm Cliff Briscoe. What brings you to Novac's fabulous Dino Dee-Lite motel and gift shop?"

"Not your damn toys, that's for sure," Cass grumbled.

"Hey now, we got a huge shipment of these in from REPCONN a while back and they're sellin' like stimpaks! C'mon, only twenty caps for three of 'em and I'll even throw in a cool mini rocket figurine for half the price!"

"My caps have no business in the pockets of some sad old bastard who plays with dolls. My friend's lookin' for information."

"Oh. Well, I guess you could talk to Manny, the town sniper. He's just up the stairs there."

"I'll wait outside with Cheyenne," Sunny offered. "Go on ahead."

"Alright. Cass?"

"I know, I know, I'm goin'. Maybe see if I can find some work or somethin' around here. Might as well waste my time wisely 'til I'm back on my feet." On an afterthought, she added, "Just watch yourself out there, alright? I'll see y' later."

And with that, Sunny and Cass were gone. Brianna climbed the steps to the sniper's nest and stepped out into the mouth of Dinky the Dinosaur.

The man ahead was motionless but for the rise and fall of his chest. His rifle was positioned between two of Dinky's enormous teeth.

"You breathe too heavily," the sniper remarked. "Otherwise I might not even have heard you."

Shouldering the rifle, he got to his feet and turned.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a sniper?"

"Don't know anyone who's tried."

"Good point," he replied, "but unless you're out here ghoul-spotting, I don't think there's any way I can help you out."

"I'm looking for information," she said, sighing inwardly at how naturally the phrase came to her. "You haven't seen a stranger pass through here - New Vegas type?" He was running with some Khans a while back, goes by the name of Benny."

The name seemed to spark his interest. "Maybe I have. But I have a job that needs doing. See, lately-"

"Look, that just isn't gonna work." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wish I could help out, but I'm not much of a fighter."

"Not often you see passers-by who can't handle themselves out here. They don't make it this far."

"A girl like me can afford a little extra help, trust me. Look, all I wanna do is go back home, but I can't do that until I find the man who tried to kill me. He took everything I have, that's why I'm out here. If you could help me-"

He snorted. "Alright, you can cut the act, sweetheart. That face of yours isn't gonna win anyone over. See, it's the pretty girls who don't have to-"

She slammed her fist into his jaw.

* * *

><p>The day dragged onwards into the lingering hour of sunset. Brianna explained her situation to Sunny and together they came up with a plan. They'd busied themselves with the passing caravans for a time, but soon learned that even the trading prices for basic aid had sky-rocketed over the past few weeks. They got rid of the last of their dynamite and sold some useless ammo, but still couldn't come up with enough money to buy a room. They attempted to bargain with the bitter motel lady without any luck, and soon the sun had disappeared behind the mountains. The Mojave Wasteland was illuminated once again by starlight.<p>

"Good evening, Miss Crawford."

Brianna equipped her sweetest smile as the old lady hobbled out from the motel lobby, jumping in fright when she saw the younger woman heading in her direction.

"Goodness gracious," she cursed. "Do you want to give me a heart attack, girl? If this is about that blasted room-"

"It's about Manny Vargas' room, actually." She opened her mouth to protest. "Cut the crap, Jeanie. Give me the key and save me the trouble of beating it out of you."

She barked out a laugh. "You would lower yourself to hitting a poor old woman?"

"Poor old woman?" It was Brianna's turn to laugh. "Tell me, you wouldn't know a man called Craig Boone, would you?"

"Where did you hear that name?" She hissed, suddenly conspiratorial.

"Shame about what happened to his wife, isn't it?"

"I'm warning you, if you don't get out of this town-"

"Give me the key right this second and you won't have to worry about your dirty little secret getting out, I promise."

"You wouldn't d-"

"Jeannie May," Brianna smiled, "I know where you live."

* * *

><p>"You're not gonna go crazy right?" Sunny whispered. "We're just gonna sneak in and out again? What are you even looking for?"<p>

"Anything. He might have a journal in there, maybe a terminal. If we don't find anything, tie him up and interrogate."

"What?!" She squeaked. "You don't know for sure if he has any information!"

"He's bound to know something," she argued. "He knew the name."

"Is this really worth it, Brianna?"

She pursed her lips, remembering. "Yeah, it is."

She slowly, quietly, slipped the key inside the lock.

_Click._

The room was no more than she'd expected. Faded grey wallpaper, a few shelves and tables littered with useless pre-war trinkets, a carpet marked with more stains than she could count. Manny Vargas slept in the bed that was tucked into the wall, rifle still at his back. A long couch sat at an angle just in front of her and- a wide grin spread across her face. A terminal glowed green on the opposite wall.

_Piece of cake._

She hurried past the couch, not daring to take a breath. Her footsteps fell silently on the carpet until she reached the terminal, bending over the swivel chair at the desk and logging into the username **Manny. **After a few swift clicks, the flickering screen presented the one word she'd been hoping to God wouldn't appear. She needed a goddamn password. Jiggling her leg nervously, she searched her brain for the five-letter word it was asking for. She supposed it might be written down somewhere, hidden in a drawer or scrawled in a notebook. She spun around and-

- found herself looking straight into the barrel of a rifle.

"Here to take me up on that work offer?" Asked Manny Vargas. "Or maybe you wanted to apologise for almost breaking my jaw?"

"Actually," she began, reaching behind her and feeling around the desk, "I'm here to download all your porn."

"Look, sweetheart, you know how this goes. We can do this the easy way-"

"No we can't."

She grabbed the pitcher behind her, using one hand to wrench the rifle away. He pulled the trigger, firing into the wallpaper while she planted a hard kick on his shin. The pitcher smashed over his head in a shower of glass, knocking him against the couch. There was a shard embedded below his eye socket, but it didn't stop him from pulling himself up and lunging for her. She jumped back, using her left hand to grab his wrist and twist it around before slamming the pitcher's handle into the side of his head. He fell to the floor in an unconscious heap just as someone threw the front door open.

"Is everything o-? Oh. I guess the whole stealth thing didn't really work out for you, huh?"

"How about you just shut the door and help me figure out the terminal password?"

"Sure thing, boss."

After ten minutes of hopeless rummaging in boxes and drawers, their search revealed itself to be futile. Sunny entered every five-letter word she could think of until she finally ran out of steam and opted to call it a night. Brianna wasn't about to back down so easily. She'd already pulled up a chair and uncovered a pile of hempen rope from beneath Manny's bed, and cleared one of the tables to make room for some tools. As she laid out all the knives she could find and went rooting for a pair of pliers, Sunny took the sniper's key to lock the door, babbling something about not being too rough and letting him at least wake up before she started threatening him with torture. But in the end, no teeth-pulling was necessary.

"Would Boone work?" Sunny asked from across the room. "Is that even a word?"

Brianna's head popped out from the bathroom door. "Where'd you see that?"

"There's a little card attached to his keys. Says the name on one side."

"Boone used to be another sniper here. I know they were friends, but uh-" She gave Manny an uncertain glance. "Not sure if they were ever _that _close."

"God, you know so many people." She shook herself. "Look, maybe our friend here had a little unrequited sniper love, just try it out."

She shrugged and moved for the terminal.

**PASSWORD: B_O_O_N_E**

_Click._

They were in. Only one file presented itself, simply labelled_ important?. _

**Manny,**

**You made the right choice, putting us up and keeping it quiet. This weasel Benny's been twitchy since we stole that package from his boss. Making me nervous as hell. But when I found out we'd be passing through on our way to Boulder City, I was sure we could count on you. Let the other Khans say what they want. I know where your loyalty lies.**

**One day you'll remember where you belong, and your brothers and sisters will welcome you back like you never left. You know where to find us.**


	13. Boulder City Showdown

**NOVAC**

**22 JULY**

**10:30**

She ran without a destination, chased by shadows and flame. The smell of ash and gunpowder choked back every breath. Bullets ricocheted off crumbling walls. The chattering of gunfire was swallowed by the voices that called her back again.

_"God gave me a hurricane of a girl."_

Chaos exploded around her, machine guns and frag mines and lasers and the constant flickering of memories. An empty room, the slicing of blades, an earth-shattering _bang _as she brought every ruin back to ashes. The pounding of fists against glass. A baptism. A rope tight around her neck, the promise of Hell climbing from every throat. The whirring of helicopter blades and a gunshot on a hilltop. Racing through a forest of blackened trees, hunting through a wreckage with bloody feet and lungs full of silver. A scream in the darkness and a dagger in the earth, a shrine to dead Gods and cautious hands tracing constellations. The glint of something silver. A final bow.

_"And get this. The game was rigged from the start."_

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is a good idea?"<p>

Brianna gave a wide yawn, looking through sleep-heavy eyes at her reflection in her Pip-Boy and ruffling some volume into her hair. "Do I ever have bad ideas?"

"Well, there was that one time when you decided to go on a quasi-suicidal revenge mission and-"

"Alright, alright, point taken. But why wouldn't this be a good idea?"

"Because that message from the Khans could have been sent days ago. They're either long gone or dead, right? There's no way they stood a chance against the NCR."

"I think you're underestimating them," Brianna replied. It was true that Boulder City was an NCR encampment - mainly just a pit-stop for the patrol squads - but she'd heard plenty about the Great Khans' fearsome strength and war tactics forged from decades of battle. Though chems had driven their tribe to the ground, their loyalty to Caesar's Legion stood strong. The city was a perfect opportunity to strike at their now-vulnerable enemy and curry some favour from The Great and Almighty East.

"If the Khans are in Boulder City, then the NCR aren't. If they've driven out the soldiers, what then? They'll kill us on sight, no questions asked."

"Let's just not think about that for now," she suggested. "How about we wait until we get there, then work with what we've got."

"And what if 'what we've got' is a murder scene?"

"You're really not helping my headache, Sunshine."

For another twenty minutes, Brianna entertained herself by thinking of the various ways she could tear Victor a working asshole. She'd been hoping to ditch the talking tin can by taking the long way out of Novac, but the effort had been futile. Idle chatter was impossible when the ridiculous contraption always had something useless to add, and although her Pip-Boy told her that they were just a half-mile from Boulder City, every step seemed to drag on for miles. Still, she couldn't help but be grateful that they'd actually found another lead, just as the trail was going cold.

"Hey," Sunny said, after half an hour had ticked away, "look at that guy."

Her pointing and gesturing led Brianna's gaze to a wide billboard in the distance. The words **HOLSTER YOUR WEAPONS AT GOMORRAH **were emblazoned across the top, right above a lovely image of a pin-up girl bending over a table, a pistol tucked into her black lace stockings.

"When you say _guy-?"_

"What do you-? _Oh. _No, no, not- not that. I mean uh, below the, uh, sign. Right there, see?" She unlooped the binoculars from her belt and offered them to her.

Brianna took them and pressed them to her eyes. She saw him then, all dressed in leather and reclining on what looked like a battered old lawn chair. His face was partially concealed by a leather cowboy hat and a heavy moustache, and a guitar was leaning against his leg, seemingly his only possession aside from whatever the rucksack next to him contained. She frowned, returning Sunny's binoculars with a questioning look. "What about him?"

Taking the binoculars, she replied, "He looks happy, right?"

"Absolutely bursting with cheerfulness. How does that help our situation?"

She shrugged. "Just pointing him out."

Brianna raised her brows, but smiled eventually. She supposed the stranger did look happy.

Until someone else appeared from the behind the billboard.

"Uh-oh," Victor chimed, "looks like our pal over there's got himself in trouble."

They stopped, watching as the newcomer was followed by a number of others, all clad in spiked metal armour. One shoved a pistol against the leather-clad cowboy's head before throwing him to the sand face-first. Two more began to root through his rucksack, tossing valuables like water and chems into the waiting hands of their friends. Any useless belongings were thrown to the ground.

"Goddamn raiders," Brianna muttered, flicking the safety off her pistol. "Let's head down."

"Are you sure?" Sunny asked, brows furrowed. "I- it's really not our business, we shouldn't mess around with them."

"Hold on - am I talking to the same person you were five seconds ago? Why the hell shouldn't we?"

"Because they're-" She bounced restlessly on the balls of her feet, taking far too long to find the words she was looking for. "They're just trying to get by, right? Just like us."

Brianna opened her mouth to speak, but her face froze into a mask of shock before any words would come out. Noiselessly, she gestured towards the scene below them with her pistol. The raiders were taking great delight in kicking the life out of the defenceless cowboy. "Sunny, this-" A burst of disbelieving laughter escaped her. "Are you kidding me? _You _want to leave that guy to die? _You?"_

For a moment it looked as if she would argue further. But in the end, all she had to say was "Fine. Let's go."

Together they sprinted off the road, Victor and Cheyenne following behind.

Brianna didn't waste a second. The raiders were gathered in a circle around the sobbing cowboy, oblivious to their presence so far. She grabbed the nearest by the throat and fired into the back of his skull. Victor released a spray of bullets into the mob as they burst into action. One turned and swung his baseball bat at Brianna's head. She ducked and fired twice into his torso, neatly side-stepping the weak blow that followed. As the raider stumbled, she moved behind him and slammed her gun into his head, knocking him to the dirt. She was on the next one in an instant, a woman with bobbing pink pigtails and a flashing cattle prod. She leapt away from the first swing of the electric weapon, then the next. The raider was moving too fast for her to risk taking a shot. She shoved the gun into its holster, bending down and retrieving the fallen bat. With a wicked grin, she swung downwards and knocked the prod from the woman's hands, hearing her bones _crunch _beneath the blow. With dramatic gusto, she knocked the stunned raider's head right out of the park, watching her body spin in a graceful circle as her neck gave a sharp _snap._

_"Nighty-night, you hero fuck!"_

She spun around. A piercing blow met her side. Metal bit into flesh and her healing wound ripped open. She stumbled back, dropping the bat in shock and reaching for her gun as the raider advanced. The first shot went wide. The second was point-blank. A gaping red eye opened on the raider's head and he fell out of sight. Looking up, she saw another attacker drawing nearer and nearer to the beaten cowboy. He scrambled to his feet, dodging the swing of the assailant's pool cue and stooping to retrieve his guitar. Without a second's hesitation, he slammed the instrument into the raider's head.

The world was silent again.

"Well, slap a star on my ass and call me a Republic." The cowboy gave a wide stretch and headed towards them, tossing down his busted guitar. "That'll make a damn fine tune once I get ol' Gloria fixed up again. Never seen a sight like that before - an' certainly not a robot neither." He dug around in his pockets and produced a leather pouch, tossing it in Brianna's direction. "Spend that wisely."

She caught it with ease. "Beating the hell out of those pricks was compensation enough."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I'm sure it was, but you can keep it anyway. S'not much, just somethin' I saved up for a rainy day."

"Lucky there's no rain in the Mojave, then," she grinned.

"Sure is."

"Mind if we clear 'em out?" She asked, gesturing towards the corpses. "Wouldn't want all those chems in their pockets goin' to waste."

"Go ahead. Just pile 'em up on the road or somethin' when you're done. Brings the geckos out, and I like watching 'em play."

* * *

><p>"We've got a situation here with some Great Khans. Orders are to keep the city on tight lock-down until it's been resolved."<p>

"Sir," Sunny began, "I understand that-"

"Lieutenant," the soldier corrected, standing firmly in front of the barrier with his arms folded. "My name is Lieutenant Monroe and I have my orders. You stay on this side of the wall and things don't have to get any uglier than they already are."

"Listen, Lieutenant," Brianna interjected, "I'm a courier with the Mojave Express. I'm an ex-mercenary, ex-Renegade ex-goddamn-everything and I can sort out your problem if you tell me what it is. If it's a hostage situation, I can deal with it. I lived in the Capital Wasteland, I've freed slaves up at Paradise Falls. If you need a negotiator, fine, I'm experienced. Talked my way out of a witch-burning once - almost. Hell, you need someone water-boarded? I'm qualified for that. And guess what? My services come free if you let me through that gate."

He paused. "It started two days ago when one of my patrols was heading back from Novac and came under fire from the Great Khans. Typical rookie behaviour - thought they could play hero by themselves and didn't radio for reinforcements. They chased the Khans into the city and got caught in a crossfire. No deaths - thank God - but not all of the squad got out. They're holding the youngest as hostages, Privates Ackerman and Gilbert. So far, the Khans haven't been very cooperative."

"Did you try offering them a light snack?"

"Do you think this is funny?" He snapped. "Look, if all you want is to go running in there with guns blazing and a few one-liners at the ready, get out of my sight and quit wasting my time. I don't even know who the fuck you are."

"My name is Brianna O'Reilly, the woman who got shot in the head in Goodsprings. I'd show you my papers but they got stolen, probably by the Great Khans in there who tried to murder me. Just hear me out for a second," she insisted, interrupting his attempt to argue. "If you send a squad in there, those hostages are dead. But two civilians might just give them a chance."

He considered that for a moment. "It could work. I know it's a long shot, but anything's better than sacrificing Ackerman and Gilbert. I'll have my troops standing ready with the orders that they head straight in at the sound of gunfire. It'll probably be too late for you both, however. I trust you understand the risks?"

"Yes, sir," they answered.

"Excellent. Just one thing, however, before you enter. I'd advise that you let us keep the dog out here for now. And, uh, the robot, if you would."

"Probably a good idea," Sunny agreed.

"Indeed. The leader is a man named Jessup. You'll find him in the small building at easternmost point of the- ah, what the hell. It's probably the only intact building in there, so you'll know it when you see it. Good luck. You're gonna need it, ladies."

* * *

><p>The place was just as devastated as Brianna expected. The first sight to greet her was a mountain of rubble, topped by an overturned car. About five NCR troopers crouched low behind mounds of fallen rock, assault rifles held ready in case things went bad. Together, Sunny and Brianna headed down the cracked road and into the desolate remains of Boulder City. She could already see brightly coloured Mohawks and black leather from the buildings ahead where the Khans were stationed. Some peered down at them, unconcerned, while others snarled and beat weapons against the palms of their hands.<p>

Brianna's hand was tense against her holstered pistol, but she resisted the urge to even hold it at her side. Getting shot in the head by a trigger-happy Khan wasn't high on her list of priorities. Her heart thumped as the two made their way towards the largest building just ahead of them, only two floors still standing where there must once have been three or four. She was stopped suddenly before she could reach the door. A cleaver was held against her neck. Her breath stuck in her throat. The woman was just in her peripheral vision, extending her arm through the smashed window of the store she was lingering in.

"You gonna be on your best behaviour, princess?" A woman asked. Her accent was thick and strange, but somehow Brianna recognised it.

"I'll be the pin-up girl for politeness and civility, don't you worry."

"Good, 'cause if I hear one nasty word from in there, I'll gut y' like a fish."

And with that, she slunk away into the shadows.

The building ahead was surprisingly intact, highly out-of-place in the desecrated ruin that was the rest of the city. She reached for the handle, her hand tightening around it. But she didn't open the door.

"This is the man who buried me, isn't it?"

"We'll handle it. Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

She pushed open the door.

"Alright, kiddies," she announced, clapping her hands together. "We're gonna have a long talk."

It took only a half second for her to analyse the room. Small. Littered with beer bottles and empty food packets. One table. Plastic chair. A tiny back room. Two busted mattresses. A shovel leaning against the door. A desk in the centre of the room and two men behind it. Male, leathers, beards.

Only one was familiar.

"What the-?" The Khan froze when he saw her. Brianna did the same.

_Tight leather jacket. Intricate tattoos. Bearded, scruffy, mohawk, bandana. Gruff voice, barely intelligible. Leaning against his shovel. Bored._

"You?!" He shook his head. "No. No, you're that courier! You're dead!"

"Yeah? Well I got better." She drew her pistol and aimed it between his eyes. "Where's Benny?"

"Brianna," Sunny warned.

"The chip. Where's the Platinum Chip? Where is it?!"

"I don't have it, alright?!" He displayed his empty palms. "That bastard stole it! I knew we shoulda told him to fuck off when he came to us, but Melissa-"

"Where is he?"

"I dunno, probably in Vegas. Laughin' his ass off at us right now, I'll bet. But Jesus, how the hell are you still alive?"

"How the hell are _you_ still alive? You cornered me, you knocked me out, you buried me six feet under and you did a pretty shitty job at it. What's stopping me from putting a bullet between your eyes right now? Let's see if you survive that, assho-"

"We're here to negotiate," Sunny reminded her. "Priorities, Brianna."

She gritted her teeth. Her aim wavered.

"Thank you," Sunny said, turning to the Khans. "We're here to settle things between you and the NCR."

"Settle things?" The second Khan repeated dumbly. "Now why would we wanna do that?"

"Because you aren't getting out of here unless you do," Brianna replied. "The NCR have plenty of supplies out there, enough to keep them going for months. You, on the other hand, are gonna starve in this place, because there's no chance in hell of them letting you out until they see those two privates alive. Try to escape without the hostages and they'll blow you all away in seconds. Sure, you might take down a few of them, but for what?"

"We take down even one of those bear-headed fucks and it'll all be worth it," the second Khan grinned.

Brianna rolled her eyes. "Look, I know exactly what you're trying to do here, but it's not gonna work. Even if some of you escape, you think Caesar's gonna shower you in His Vast Glory when he finds out what you've done? That you've wiped out most of your little gang for the sake of killing a few NCR rookies? He'll spit on your tribe and laugh in your smiling faces, nothing more than that. Unless you manage to wipe out the entire NCR battalion here and take over the city, Caesar doesn't give a shit what you do here today. And let's face it, boys. That isn't gonna happen."

"How about I pump a few more bullets into that pretty head of yours, see if that puts you down," Jessup threatened.

Her brow quirked. She dropped her gun and displayed her hands in mocking surrender. "Go ahead. I dare you."

Neither even reached for a weapon.

"Exactly," she smiled. "We have you surrounded. That gun goes off and the entire squadron come out in force."

"You think I'm afraid of bullets?" Jessup's eye twitched. Something manic was draining the life from his eyes. "You think I'm afraid of death?"

"No," she replied, calmly strolling towards the desk and swinging her legs over it until she was standing right next to the wide-eyed Khan, her face inches from his.

"I think you're afraid of me."

Her fist collided with his jaw. She shoved him against the wall, her forearm pressed against his throat. Her free hand ripped the pistol from his hand as Sunny leapt over the desk to meet the second Khan. She flicked the safety off the weapon and shoved it against Jessup's jaw as his friend went crashing over the desk. "Listen to me, pussycat," she said, as his breathing grew sharp and shallow. "Look me in the eye. Take a good, long look." She pressed him against the wall with her knee against his groin. "This is the face of the woman who ruined your life."

She slammed the gun into his head then grabbed him by the hair. She swung her fist into his nose. It shattered beneath the punch. The gun clattered to the floor. She swung for him again and again until his jaw cracked. His legs stopped holding him upright. He fell back against the desk, not daring to move as she unholstered her knife. He burbled a semi-conscious plea. She dragged the blade across his face. A slow trickle of blood oozed from the clean slice. She dragged the knife across his throat, just enough to graze him.

Then she forced the blade down and drove it through his hand.

The Great Khan gave an unholy shriek of terror, flailing and sobbing in agony as she hopped over the desk. The second Khan lay unconscious on the floor. Only Sunny was left to stare at her with an unreadable expression, something that might have been apprehension, uncertainty, regret. Something that could have been fear, but lay closer to acceptance. The only thing Brianna could judge from her face was that Sunny Smiles had plenty to say about her. But after a moment, she only voiced on thought.

"He wasn't the one who shot you, you know. It was just a job."

"Just a job?" She shook her head. "No. No, when I destroyed Hopeville, that was just a job. When the Legion marched into Nipton and started mounting people on crosses, that was just a job. Every hitman, every slaver, every goddamn sadistic torturer who gets a handful of caps at the end of the day, they all do jobs. But, God, just because you get paid for it doesn't mean it stops hurting people!"

She ran her fingers through her hair, searched the room, searched for an answer.

She found the shovel leaning against the wall.

* * *

><p>"That's right," Brianna said. "So you're gonna let these two go or answer to Jessup."<p>

"And we walk out of here without any harm done?" The Khan didn't seem convinced.

"That's right."

"And Jessup allowed that?"

"Ask him in a few hours when he wakes up."

"You little-"

"Just leave her, Jerry," a woman ordered.

"Melissa, tell her this is bullshit."

"It ain't," she shot back, stepping into the room. "Jessup said free 'em, so we're freein' 'em."

"Ah, fuck it." Jerry fumbled for the knife at his thigh, moving for the hostages who were bound and kneeling on the floor. He cut them free with a swift downward motion, severing the ropes that tied them together before freeing their hands.

"See?" Brianna smiled. "Violence isn't always the answer."

"Bloody bastards can make their own way out," the woman cursed, folding her arms and letting the bewildered NCR troops make a hasty exit. "Jerry, round up the others while I get Jessup and Andy. Knew this was a waste of time."

With a short grunt and a nod, he did as he was ordered.

"Well this has been right and-"

The Khan froze.

"No." She shook her head. "No way. It's _you."_

"Funny, I got a similar reaction from your friend," Brianna spat. "Who I beat the shit out of, by the way."

_"Yeah, just do it quickly, Benny, alright?"_

"Look, I- you gotta understand, I-"

_They're gonna kill me._

"Jessup talked me into it. I never knew it was gonna get so bad, I-"

_The game was rigged from the start._

"Were you gonna let me go?" She asked. "Were you gonna tell him to let me live?"

"I- I wanted to, I swear. But Benny, he- he scares the shit outta me, man. I couldn't do it. Knew there was no point."

"Did you know who I was?"

"S- some courier, yeah. Heard you'd be tough to take down, but that was it."

"Did you know that my name is Brianna O'Reilly?"

"Please. Please d-"

"Did you know that I love to dance and that I had my first kiss when I was thirteen with a girl who passed by the town I was settling in? Did they tell you that some of my happiest memories are of finding a record store in the Capital Wasteland, diving off a cliff and into a lake in Zion Valley to escape a nest of cazadors, standing out in the first thunderstorm I'd ever seen? Did they mention that I used to love a girl who saved the world and that I always wanted to get a tattoo sleeve and ride a rollercoaster and fly in a helicopter? Did you know any of that? Did you care? Was my life really worth a handful of bottle caps? Did I have to die so you could impress some loud-mouthed asshole with bad tattoos? I know I've been on the better end of a bullet more times than I can count - I've stomped out a lot of fires with plenty of burning left in them. But things change in your head when you're staring into the barrel of a gun that goes off."

"Look, I-"

"Did you still love him when he was dumping sand over my bleeding corpse? Did you still want him then?"

"I just wanted it over. If you wanna kill me, I-"

"Go."

"W- what?"

"Go on, crawl back to whatever camp you came from. Just go."

"I- yeah. Yeah. Thank you. Thank you. And for what it's worth, I'm glad that you're alive."

And with that she scurried off, leaving Brianna and Sunny alone in the ruin.

"You alright?" Sunny asked.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Where to now?"

"Vegas. We're going to Vegas."


	14. Low Times

**THE MOJAVE DESERT**

**JULY 22**

**15:03**

"Brianna? Brianna?"

The voice in the distance shook her from her daze and the Mojave Desert returned to her in a flash of vivid colour. The sun was burning brightly in a cloudless sky, the sand was hot and the road ahead was long. A white flag hung limply in the distance, wishing for a breeze to fly it. At her side was a panting dog, her waving master and a New Vegas Securitron that rolled along the asphalt on a single wheel.

"You okay?" Sunny asked. "You zoned out there for a bit."

"Yeah, fine. Just fine."

She didn't seem convinced. "You'll be alright, won't you? Going back to Vegas after all you had to go through there, that's gotta be tough."

"I've seen plenty of people who went through way worse than I did, trust me."

"What does that matter? It's still gonna be hard for you, right?"

"Look, I've been to slaver camps back in the Capital. Neither of us have even tasted hardship compared to what those people went through. Being locked up, beaten, _raped." _The word barely made it past her throat. She hugged herself for a moment, feeling suddenly cold despite the burning heat. "At least I had the privilege of choosing to be a whore."

"You don't have to feel guilty for doing what you thought you had to do."

"I don't. But it isn't fair for you tell me that I should go back to Vegas feeling terrible for myself when I had it a lot easier than most. You learn to deal with that kind of shit out here. It's just the way things work."

"You don't have to say that."

"If you're going to make a point, Sunny, just make it."

"It's just-" She paused, searching for words. "I have no idea how you're going through all of this by yourself. I barely know a thing about you, but if slaver camps, prostitution and _witch burnings_were a part of your past, then I don't know how you're holding yourself together. I get that you're Brianna O'Reilly, wasteland femme fatale, but it's alright if you want to talk about some of this stuff with me. And before you interrupt, I know what you're gonna say." She deepened her voice, accenting every word with a western flare. "It's the fucking wasteland. Fucking people get fucking hurt and you have to suck it the fuck up and fucking deal with it. And that's what I do because I'm Courier Six and I curse a lot to channel my inner anger and emotional trauma because I'm too good for feelings."

Brianna blinked. Opened her mouth to speak. And exploded into a fit of laughter.

"What? No, I'm serious! That's what you sound like! I thought it was an accurate- stop laughing!"

Before she could straighten herself, she was pulled into a tight hug.

"Okay, what's happening?"

"We're friends now. I got through to you."

This was ridiculous. They were hugging right in the middle of an open road, God only knew who might be- _ah, screw it._

"You stink," Sunny giggled, pulling away from the hug.

"You're short.

"You smell."

"It's the wasteland. Fucking people fucking smell and you fucking get over it. So fucking shut the fucking fuck up you fucking fuck."

Sunny beamed.

"Aw, it sure is nice to see ol' buddies together," Victor chimed.

"Yeah, it is."

* * *

><p>"Damned if I wouldn't eat that again."<p>

Brianna gave a wide stretch, enjoying the fullness in her tummy from the meal and the cool breeze blowing in from the west. The white flag they'd spotted in the distance was now flying high, depicting a two-headed bear on a white field, growling at a red star. The 188 Trading Outpost was nothing fancy - just a couple of picnic tables and a makeshift bar situated atop an overpass. Traders stopped by to sell their junk down below, but no one ever stayed long. When the lights of New Vegas were this close, it was hard not gravitating towards them.

"The food's great here- just mind the drinks." Brianna turned at the sound of woman's voice. "Rat pee is mostly radiation-free, of course, but come on. Is it worth it?"

She leaned against the railing of the overpass, her shape lost beneath frayed brown robes. The hood on her head kept most of her face hidden, leaving very little visible but the pneumatic gauntlet she wore on her right hand.

"And you are?"

"A young girl from California with stars in her eyes."

"Right."

"Nice to meet you," Sunny chimed, returning from the bar with a fresh dish of water for Cheyenne.

"Oh, wow, two of you? Even better!" The stranger squeaked, lowering her hood just enough to allow a clear look at her face. She was pretty, Brianna supposed, in a plain sort of way. There was nothing remarkable about her oval-shaped face or unusually pale skin, although she found herself drawn to the woman's eyes. Deep brown, they glittered with a strange intensity.

"I mean, I'm not some kind of lesbian fetishist or anything," she clarified. "In fact, I'm probably the only person within the general vicinity who _doesn't _want to sell your bodies for caps. I mean, I am a lesbian but that is a _whole _other story, let me tell you."

"If you have a point, I'd suggest you make it."

"Yeah, of course! See, I had a run-in with this group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch, actually. Power armour, laser rifles, the works. Would you happen to know anything about them?"

She did. The Brotherhood were everywhere in DC the last time she'd been, crawling all over the place like radroaches. She didn't know much about them other than that they shot super mutants on sight and built gigantic, laser-shooting robots. But that was far away. She hadn't even known that the Brotherhood was still around in the Mojave. So she replied, "I've had a couple run-ins, nothing more."

Sunny shook her head. "I've only heard stories. They aren't robots, right?"

The stranger laughed. "Sometimes you wouldn't know with that bunch. But I'm getting ahead of myself, right? I'm Veronica. Er, Santangelo. And you two, well, you're certainly something. I'll be honest, you're the first people I've seen in a while that look like they can actually handle themselves out there. And you've got a Securitron hanging around at your beck and call, which is kind of unbelievable. So where you headed?"

"Meeting up with an old friend," Brianna replied.

"Really? Because your eyes are screaming 'I'm a psychotic murderer planning my next kill'." She looked to Sunny. "I guess you're the plucky sidekick that calms the raging beast within her?"

"Something like that."

"Excellent. Because - well, I don't wanna be too forward, but- okay, I'll just come out with it. There are some places out here that I really wanna see. I can handle myself pretty well, but the roads are just too dangerous for one person. And since my parents told me that there was safety in numbers, I thought that maybe, y'know, we could travel together, maybe help each other out a little bit."

"Help each other out?" Brianna asked. "How? What exactly do you bring to the table?"

"Well, I'm good at punching things. I mean _really _good, not just your average good. I'm also good at shooting things. I've been shooting bark scorpions with a laser pistol since I was eight. Before that, I was taking computers apart and putting them back together. I can craft whatever ammo you need if I get the right materials. I also like long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners, but we can talk about that later. So what do you think?"

"I think that you're a Brotherhood scribe who isn't telling me something."

"Dammit! I knew it was the robes. Look, I'm sorry about that. I was gonna tell you, I promise, but we've made a lot of enemies. I needed to make sure you weren't gonna shoot me in the face, right? Keep me on a short leash and I won't be any trouble, I promise. Just walk me regularly, make sure I don't get lost and look away when I have to tinkle in a bush."

"C'mon," Sunny pressed, noticing Brianna's hesitant expression. "We're making friends, not alliances in a death match. This could be fun."

"Look, my friends don't have very long lifespans," she replied. "When you're a mercenary, that tends to happen. I've seen some hard roads, and not many people can face them like I can. That's why I became a courier. Solo job, less dying. Until I got shot in the head. I'm going to Vegas so I can get answers from the man who put a bullet in my brain and yes, that explains the scar. If you think you can keep up, fine. People tell me I'm an annoying, angsty, egotistical, borderline-psychotic murderer, but for some reason they just can't resist coming along for the ride. Here's your opportunity, if you're still interested."

Veronica mulled that over for a moment. "Well, nobody's perfect."

"Then let's get going."

* * *

><p>Brianna O'Reilly was scared.<p>

She was scared of finding the man who'd tried to kill her, scared of looking into his eyes. She was scared of what colour they'd be. She was scared of his nose crinkling when he laughed, his fingers drumming against his thigh when he was nervous, his eyes darting about the room when he was afraid. She was scared of finding a person. Benny must have had a childhood once. Parents. Goals that went as far as stealing a valuable delivery and as low as making sure to get a tear on his suit mended. What if she had to kill him? What if she couldn't? What would he tell her if she found him? That she was collateral damage, the means to an end? That the Platinum Chip really was just that, and he'd sold it for an extra handful of caps? What if he told her that she was being ridiculous? What if he told her that she was disposable? What if he told her that she was just a stupid little girl who was wasting her time, deluding herself into thinking that she might just be important?

What if he was right?

"You look like you seriously need a soul-searching journey," Veronica remarked, shaking her from her thoughts. "What's the matter? Feeling murderous? Hungry? Sexually aroused?" She whispered the final two words as if they were taboo. "Maybe you're at that time in a young girl's life where you need to open up, practice your sexuality-"

"I get it," she groaned, "you're a lesbian. I know that now."

She feigned an expression of hurt. "Hey, let me express myself. The Brotherhood, well, they're too busy creaming themselves over old technology to start hosting any gay pride rallies. I love them to bits, but playing for the other team is strictly forbidden. Something about reproduction, not 'ruining the sanctity of marriage' or anything."

"Gee, that must feel awful," Sunny said.

"Sometimes. But I haven't been around much anymore. They send me out grocery shopping - just scavenging for food and supplies, really. They don't ask any questions if take a night or two out, though. Then Veronica gets her dosage of lesbian love."

"Is that why you're leaving?"

This time it looked like she was genuinely offended. "Hey, my sexuality isn't the most interesting thing about me, even if I do get a little carried away sometimes. Actually, it's a lot more complicated than just that. For now, let's just say they aren't going to miss me too much. Most of them will be glad to see the back of me. And not just because of my _spectacular _behind."

"Which has been pretty much swallowed by that robe," Sunny pointed out. "We can find some armour for you, if you want."

"No thanks," she replied quickly. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"What about in Vegas?" She pressed, barely containing a smile. "You _cannot _pick up a girl wearing those."

"I know, right?" She complained. "You try to get a date wearing scribe robes. Might as well be wearing sweat pants. You know, I've always wanted to find the perfect dress. It's part of the reason I'm out here, in fact."

"You came out here to find a dress?"

"I know it sounds a little crazy, but I've always wanted one. A good one, y'know? Those pre-war ladies, they knew what they were doing. They make want to feel like a woman. So I need a dress. One that's classy and elegant, but also says 'don't fuck with me'."

"Well I'm sure there's enough in Vegas to last you a lifetime."

"If we can afford it," Brianna muttered.

"Afford it?" Sunny asked. "We still have, like-" She paused, counting on her fingers. "Around five hundred caps, right?"

"There's a credit check," she blurted. "You don't have to buy your way into Vegas or anything, but you need some kind of proof that you aren't a chemhead or a raider. You show a Securitron that you have enough money and you're in."

"And you didn't think to mention that?"

"Jobs are easy to find in Freeside. Hey, don't look at me like that. I would've kept the last of my clothes on if people thought I knew what I was doing. They didn't. But they will now, and gaining notoriety in Freeside has perks, so I'm told. Besides, we'll need to round up some caps anyway if we want to make the best of our time in Vegas. After I get answers, I'm taking you to the casinos."

"Alright," she smiled, "sounds good."

_Nonononononononononononono._

"Things aren't that bad, right?" Veronica asked. "No end-of-the-world situations or anything? Because that _sucked _the first time."

She sighed. "It's time I tell you everything, isn't it?"


	15. High Times

**FREESIDE EAST GATE**

**22 JULY**

**17:29**

"Here we are."

After all that had happened, after everything she'd been through, she was finally here. After Nipton and Primm and Boulder City, after all the hell that came between, she'd made it. She swallowed the terror that was crawling up her throat as her heart hammered with raging anticipation. She was so, so close to getting the answers she needed. This could be the start of something. Or the end. Maybe Benny's answers would be enough to let her know that there was nothing for her here. Maybe this trip with end with her leaving New Vegas behind, disappearing into the wastes with nothing but her memories and a gun. She would soon find out.

_Almost there._

Although Freeside was big enough to dwarf Boulder City, it wasn't any prettier. The road ahead was cracked and uneven, and the yellowed pages of pre-war newspapers were stuck to the sidewalks. To their right was a row of ugly square buildings, their insides hollowed out to accommodate the squatters that lay within. The streets were quiet, occupied mainly by the chemheads who staggered along them. A leather-clad stranger giggled softly as he burned his wrist with a cigarette. Another junkie further one was rocking back and forth in an alleyway, trying to bite through his Jet inhaler. A blonde woman strutted down the road in nothing but a black thong and a pair of heels. To their right stood three mercenaries in heavy armour.

"People actually need guards to escort them around?" Sunny asked, keeping her voice low as she passed them.

"A beautiful lady like you must need someone to help her around this dangerous city," a voice drawled in reply. He made no move towards the group, but they stopped nonetheless to get a look at him. He was closest to Brianna's height, effortlessly towering over Sunny. He'd sliced off the sleeves of his jacket to reveal muscular, tattooed arms. Brianna eyed him with passive interest while Veronica gave an approving glance in her direction, both silently agreeing that this stranger was hot.

"Two hundred caps and I'm all yours, sweetheart," he winked, reaching out for Sunny's arm. "What's the hurry? I'm the best Freeside has to offer."

Brianna wrenched his arm away with one hand. With the other, she reached for the fire axe that had once belonged to Jessup. She calmly extended her arm and held the blade against the mercenary's neck. "She doesn't need a sweet-talking pretty boy hopped up on Psycho to protect her. She already has someone who regularly puts bullets in your kind."

"Alright, alright." He raised his hands in a mock display of submission. "Just be careful with that axe. Wouldn't want you hitting yourself on the-"

She twirled the axe around and drove the blunt end into the side of his skull. The only female guard among them turned away to hide her laughter as her fellow mercenary shrieked with pain.

"Don't want me shooting myself in the foot either?" She goaded, swapping the axe for her pistol.

"If you think she's too brainless to pull the trigger," Veronica added, "I'll have no trouble crushing your dick with a pneumatic gauntlet."

"Assuming he has one."

"I'd check, but I left my magnifying glass at home."

"Get the fuck outta here," he spat. "Don't fucking laugh at me! Get the fuck out! I'll piss on your fucking bodies when I find 'em naked in a ditch!"

The roaring laughter of the female mercenary was audible for a long time after they departed.

"God, that is unbelievable," Veronica complained. "You'd think both genders would come together after atomic bombs destroyed the planet. Where are their priorities?"

Sunny opened her mouth to reply before a robotic voice interrupted.

"Goodbye, partners," Victor droned, devoid of his usual cheer as he wheeled around the corner and disappeared.

"Forgot about that talking tin can," Brianna muttered. "Think we should go after him?"

"Nope," her companions replied.

"Good. Something's not right about that thing."

"Like the fact that he's been following us for days now?" Sunny supplied.

"Might have something to do with it."

A rat scampered across their path. Cheyenne raised her hackles, growling as two children came racing past, machetes raised.

"Oh my God," Sunny breathed. "Are they-?"

Brianna glanced in her direction, then did a quick double take. Sunny's face didn't betray a trace of sadness. Her eyes were burning with anger, the corner of her lip curled with disgust. The expression lasted only a few seconds, but Brianna swore she could feel the rage seething from her. "How can anyone live like this? There are kids with weapons. They're chasing rats like it's a game. How does that happen? How did it get like this?"

"You didn't expect any better, did you?" Veronica asked. "This is the extreme poverty that goes hand-in-hand with excessive wealth."

"This is where they all go," Brianna explained. "The ones who leave the Strip. They blow all their caps at the tables, or win big and get the shit beaten out of 'em like I did. Wake up and here they are, not a cap to their name. The rest of them come here expecting to get into Vegas. They all have plenty of caps, decide to spend a night in Freeside and find that they have drinks to pay for. Rooms, food, weapons, maybe a guard to escort them. People here don't just hire random travellers from the wasteland, not unless they've got real experience. So the money just goes and goes until they're stuck here. Five years later and they're wondering just what the hell happened."

"So how do we avoid that?"

"Leave it to me."

* * *

><p>"Was getting wasted the plan?"<p>

"Relax," Brianna said, as Veronica found herself a seat. "We won't find anything 'til tomorrow morning. Besides, I know the bartender."

The Atomic Wrangler was, as their slogan promised, the best bar in Freeside. And the only bar. The place was drab enough to make her yawn, offering nothing more than an empty stage, a deserted casino and five round tables. A stranger in a straw hat was snoring over one of them. Only the owners stood at the bar, waiting for the next staggering drunk to throw money their way. The place was very much dead, but the booze here was as cheap as the women they offered- or so the crier outside had told them. Brianna wondered where those women were.

"Reminds me of Goodsprings," Sunny praised, perfectly content as she took a seat next to Veronica. Cheyenne made herself comfortable beneath the table.

"I've seen more life in a Brotherhood Knight," Veronica complained. "And trust me, you'd find more enjoyable company in a radroach."

"Things a bit too quiet for your liking, sweetheart?" One of the bartenders inquired, leaning over the bar. James, she remembered.

"Or too empty?" The second, Francine, asked.

"Lacking booze?"

"Food?"

"Company?"

"Whores?"

"Rush hour starts at six. Everythin' you need will be taken care of."

"We've got liquor, chems and whores a plenty. Pick your fix and we'll oblige. Our only rule is no sampling the merchandise. Caps paid in advance."

The Garret twins hadn't changed one bit. Despite their opposing genders, their features were strikingly similar. Both had high cheekbones, a square jaw and light brown hair. Francine wore hers in a high bun while James' was neatly parted to the left side. They each donned matching cream suits with bright red ties. If they recognised her at all, the twins didn't show it. They handed her the drinks she ordered - an apple cider for Sunny, a chilled beer for Brianna and a Nuka Cola and Vodka for Veronica, which the scribe eagerly clapped her hands at.

"Drink up," Brianna advised. "When the whores come in, you'll wanna be real tipsy."

"I'd rather save up some money for Vegas," Sunny replied.

"Hey, the hookers won't be any cleaner."

"If we're blowing all our caps on drinks tonight, I want to be able to afford food tomorrow. Five hundred caps is great, but-"

"Eight, actually."

_"Eight caps?!"_

Veronica burst into laughter from behind her glass.

"Eight hundred_, _dumbass."

Sunny wasn't convinced. "We had two hundred after checking out Nipton, then Manny-"

"An extra hundred from the cowboy outside Boulder City, two hundred from Ringo Hendricks, give or take the stuff we bought and sold to the caravans."

"Ringo gave you money?"

"Sure."

"Why didn't you tell me? We couldn't afford a bed between us in Novac!"

"I was saving it," she admitted. "Maybe I was thinking about buying you a nice dress in Vegas."

"... You were?"

"Maybe," a woman slurred from somewhere behind them. A hand clapped down on Brianna's shoulder. "Maybe you could go buy _me _a drink, sweetheart."

Brianna froze. Gritted her teeth. Shook her head slowly in denial.

_No._

When she turned around, she would see a drunken lowlife giggling behind her, all rotted teeth and wasted skin. Probably a prostitute or a junkie.

She would not see a freckled woman with bright red hair and a cowboy hat.

She got to her feet and turned around.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy barked out a laugh. "So it _was _you. Guess that rules out my chances of gettin' in your pants, huh?" She giggled. "Go on, buy me a whiskey. _Pleeeeeease?"_

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Shhh! You talk too loud."

"What are you doing here?!" She demanded, rising to her feet. "What happened?"

"I got thirsty. And I wanted a whiskey."

"Remember how I sobered you up last time, sweetheart? How would like an ice bath this time?"

"Alright, alright! I went to find the caravan, okay? Wanted to say my goodbyes and start a nice, new life. And then I found the fucking thing and it was shit so I bought a whiskey. And then I bought _two _whiskeys. And _then... _and then I couldn't afford any more whiskeys. So then you came in. And here we are!"

"Is she drunk or crazy?" She heard Veronica ask Sunny, who didn't respond as she looked on in confusion. "I can never quite tell the difference before they're in bed."

"I wouldn't mind getting _you _in bed," Cass replied with a titter.

"Well, this is just great," Brianna smiled. "Let's all make passionate love together and forget that you're a washed out old fuck-up, Cass!"

"What are you tryna say?"

"I'm saying you're gonna stick your finger down your throat before I do it for you."

"How about you let me drink in peace, and then maybe I'll-"

She grabbed the Cass' left wrist with one hand and used the other to knock the hat from her head. "Hold still," she said, jamming a finger down Cass' throat as far as she could reach. The gagging came almost instantly. She held out for a few seconds before pushing the woman forward and allowing her to puke up whatever whiskey wasn't yet flowing through her bloodstream.

"Oh, that's gross," Sunny complained, turning her head away and shielding her eyes. Veronica watched with a disgusted expression as Cass straightened herself up, wiping her mouth and staggering for a moment before finding support on the back of Veronica's chair.

"Do that again and I'll throw up in your mouth," Cass managed.

"Next time it's the ice bath," she warned. "And you're coming with us."

"Alright, alright, fuck! Just don't expect some kinda miraculous recovery if you drag me off to Vegas. They have a lot of fuckin' whiskey there and I'm still _pissed."_

* * *

><p>It was rush hour, alright. After a half hour of slow drinking and attempting to talk some sense into a loud-mouthed redhead, it was time for the rats of Freeside to scamper out of their holes. The place was filled with people now, some in expensive suits and dresses that would soon be stolen right off their backs, while others wore faded hoodies and bitter expressions. Some had sunken cheeks and yellowing skin while others came in with styled hair and pouting lips. Aside from the few beggars that were quickly dispatched by the Garret twins, everyone had a drink in hand.<p>

Brianna O'Reilly had her tongue down someone's throat. She didn't know the woman's name and she didn't care. Neither did the cheering men that stood around them as she pinned the stranger against the wall, laughing through the kiss and raising her middle finger to whoever stood behind her. She didn't see Sunny fighting off the lecherous hands of another heavy drinker, or Veronica as she fiddled with the wires of the Garrets' broken radio. What she did see was the face of Rose of Sharon Cassidy as she pulled herself away from the woman she'd been kissing.

"Oh, shit!"

"I _knew _your breath smelled like _dick," _Cass snorted. "I _knew _it was you!"

"That's gross," Brianna complained. "You're gross. And you _stink."_

Somehow she found herself standing next to Sunny as Cass found someone else to occupy herself with."You alright?" She asked, noticing the man lying at her feet. It looked like he'd been thrown over the table.

"Fine," she assured. "Did you see the robot?"

She had. With its egg-shaped metal body, Brianna had assumed that it was simply a patrol bot. Only after a second glance did she see that the word FISTO was printed over its torso. It didn't take a huge stretch of the imagination to guess what it was used for. And that wasn't even the strangest thing they'd seen all night. Seated at one of the bar stools was a ghoul with wrinkled breasts and stringy, pink flesh that hung limply from her bones. Ghouls were relatively common in Freeside, but ghoul hookers? Not as much. Covering her more intimate parts were two leather straps bound together by tight chains. The rest of her veiny flesh was fully on display, complete with a pair of leather boots and fingerless gloves. A bullwhip rested on her lap.

"You think that one gets any customers?"

"Only the very brave and very, very drunk," Veronica replied, jumping over from behind the bar.

"What are the chances of getting _that_ _one_ for free?" Brianna gestured towards one of the female dancers on stage. Dark skin, thick black hair and an ass that could-

"Zero," Sunny replied with a grin, shaking her from the fantasy.

"Damn."

"So what's with you, anyway?" She yelled. Someone behind them was turning up the jukebox. "What team do you play for?"

"Doesn't matter to me."

"So, you have low standards, or-?"

"Fuck off," she snapped. "What, so Little Miss I-Won't-Judge thinks that the ex-hooker must have low standards?"

"I- I'm sorry. I came out wrong, I didn't-" She paused. "I'm not completely certain about my own team either, if that helps."

"Does it matter? Hot people are hot, that's all there is to it."

"That's the confusing part, actually. Hot people are hot until I think about jumping in bed with them. I don't know if that's really my thing."

"You won't be saying that in a few minutes," she grinned, moving for the bar. Francine was the only one on duty and FISTO was nowhere in sight. _  
><em>

_Gross._

"Hey, kid," Francine called, leaning over the counter. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I'm not for hire," she replied, sitting down at one of the empty bar stools. "I'm back here on business, Francie, so don't bother."

"Hey now, I just wanted to-"

"Francine, just don't. I'm not being cute here, we aren't friends."

"You gonna let me finish a sentence?"

"Knock yourself out."

"Good job, is all I wanted to say. You wanted out of here, and unlike most of the miserable bastards in this place, you did it. Good on you."

"Is there a point behind this conversation?"

"Clever girl. Look, I'll explain this quickly. There's a woman here that goes by the name of Lady Jane. Used to be she was the most condescending bitch in this place before her caravan was destroyed and she got herself stuck here. She's still the most condescending bitch in this place, but now she's running with a bunch of thugs, selling chems to pay her way back to California. Long story short: she owes us money. Two hundred and ten caps. You remember what to do, right? Just get the money and you sleep here free tonight, like old times. Don't forget to remind her that nobody fucks with the Garret twins."

"And if I tell you to fuck yourself?"

"You're used to sleeping on the street, right?"

"You're one heartless bitch."

"We have that in common."

"Not anymore we don't."

"How many rooms?"

"I'll take two."

* * *

><p>Brianna threw herself down on the bed, not feeling her face hit the pillow. The room was <em>big, <em>and the bed was even bigger.

_That doesn't make sense..._

Her mind was clouded, dizzy, drunk. Her rucksack was somewhere on the floor, if she could just... reach... down...

The door opened. She sat herself up, prepared to argue with Cass over sharing the bed and-

"Woah."

A woman in sheer lace and nothing but was standing in the doorway. She sauntered towards Brianna with a playful smile on her lips. Her hair flowed like liquid, swimming around in her addled vision. Her skin was burnt sienna, smooth and perfect and God, that _ass..._

* * *

><p>Cass eyed the whiskey bottle cautiously. The bar was only getting busier, and the more eyes she felt on her the more she wanted it. That fucking bottle. She lived with the hope that some miraculous epiphany would be found at the bottom of that bottle.<p>

But she couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She had an hour to waste while her friend was getting laid by a beautiful woman. An hour to drink her problems away and drown herself in whiskey once again.

So Rose of Sharon Cassidy left the bar behind her and took a long, long walk into the night.

* * *

><p>Veronica lay down on the bed, puzzling. The ceiling had all sorts of patterns that would keep her occupied while she made plans. Whatever business her new travelling companion had in Vegas, it would be done soon. Brianna O'Reilly was kidding herself if she thought that something would come out of this trip, something that didn't involve terrible jazz music and empty beer bottles. She would be defeated, angry, looking for somewhere else to go, something else to do, and Veronica would provide her with just that. A distraction. She could be endlessly useful.<p>

Hopefully.

She wasn't the kind of person to use someone. That wasn't her. Brianna was a good person, or trying to be, and her companions were a lot livelier than most of the assholes back in Hidden Valley. If they couldn't help her with the Brotherhood, fine. They could do other things, help her get around the Mojave without winding up dead in a ditch. Her heart was thirsty for change and aching with the need for something new. And back at home-

No.

It could wait for tonight.

* * *

><p>Sunny sat at the edge of the bath as the water ran, cursing herself and everything else. <em>So, you have low standards, or-? <em>God, she was so stupid! Stupid and confused and very, very drunk. Brianna O'Reilly was in bed with a beautiful stranger and here she was, tracing her scars, breathing in the steam all by herself. If she was sober, would she be having thoughts like this? She couldn't string a sentence together anymore. What the hell did that mean? God, why did she have to get drunk? She could figure things out if she wasn't so damn drunk. Right now, every thought melted into images of dark hair, glinting eyes, knowing smirks. Sun-tanned skin so thoroughly scarred, so _beautiful _that it took her breath away.

She sank down deep into the water, drowning her thoughts, washing them away. She was Sunny Smiles, the cheery girl from Goodsprings with her amputation and her dog and her constant tripping over words. Brianna O'Reilly was the wasteland personified, wild and dangerous and so impossibly alive that her very presence stole the breath from her lungs. She was incredible. She was exhilarating. She was in bed with another woman. Why did that matter so much? What was she feeling? How much had she had to drink? It didn't matter. She was the grounding force that kept her reckless companion from setting herself aflame. That would be enough for her. She would let herself sob now, scream over the cruelty of children chasing rats and convicts stealing a piece of her and home being lost among memories. She would let her heart tear itself into a million pieces tonight.

Tomorrow, she would equip her brightest smile and move on.


	16. Blood and Silver

**THE ATOMIC WRANGLER**

**JULY 23**

**09:21**

_"I love you!"_

She tried to tell her, tried and tried and tried, repeating the words over and over again until her throat was raw.

_"I love you! I love you! I love you!"_

She slammed her fists against the glass, pounding with all her strength as hot tears ran down her cheeks.

_"Grace! Grace!"_

But the girl was beyond her reach, falling against the glass, trapped on the other side, dying.

_"I can't lose you."_

She was deaf to her own pleas, deaf to the wailing of alarms. She wouldn't run. Not this time, not like she had before.

_"Please."_

The glass shattered into a million pieces and the radiation ate her alive, just like she'd always wanted.

* * *

><p>"Morning!" Sunny chirped, blooming out from the next room and joining Brianna on the stairs. "Sleep well?"<p>

"Yeah. Fine."

"You sure?"

"Isn't that what I said?"

"Just checking."

Veronica was waiting downstairs for them, already helping herself to breakfast. Their own plates had been laid out on the table.

"You look like you've seen better days," she remarked, eyeing Brianna up and down.

"She could rip that hood off you before you could say 'No! You'll reveal my extra head!'" Sunny said, taking a seat. "I'd be careful if I were you."

"An extra head, huh? I dunno, I think I'd need a bigger hood."

"A third eye, then?"

"So close."

"Go on," she insisted, leaning over the table. "Why do you have that thing?"

"It's nothing, really. Nothing important. I just-"

"Spit it out," Brianna chided through a mouthful of banana yucca.

"I don't like my hair, okay?"

Sunny sat back down. "Is that all?"

"Well, I'm sorry I don't have a genetic abnormality that's exciting enough for you."

"You do live in the wasteland. I thought you must have a third arm growing out of your belly button, at least."

"Maybe my third arm is in an embarrassing place."

"If you don't shut up you'll have an extra arm up your ass," Brianna threatened, massaging her temples with a groan.

"As a lesbian, I could live with that."

Sunny almost choked on her food. Cass emerged to clap her on the back before she laughed herself into an early grave.

"What did I miss?" She asked, sitting down to join them.

"Veronica likes fishtung," Brianna managed through another mouthful of fruit.

"Fish tongue?"

"Fushthing," she attempted, swallowing the food.

"Fish... thing?"

"Fisting!" She concluded, shouting to be heard over the giggles of the other women.

The place fell silent. The only others in the place - a few men by the bar - turned in their direction.

"That wasn't a suggestion."

The men quickly returned to their food.

"Well?" Cass chided, after everyone had finished their breakfast. "You think we're gonna earn some money just sitting here looking at each other?"

"We could try the Silver Rush," Brianna suggested. "Gun runners. Plasma weapons, mostly."

"No way, not those assholes. I don't trust 'em."

"Rival merchants," Brianna explained before Sunny could ask. "Silver Rush and Cassidy's Caravan." She turned to Cass. "Look, you can let that go now, alright? You said it yourself, the caravan's dead and buried. And like hell am I spending another fortnight in this place while you consider your job opportunities, Cass. Heading there might help us find Lady Jane, the one Francie told me about."

"If Gloria starts giving me shit, I'll make her eat her hair. Deal?"

"Deal," she agreed. "This place could do with some excitement."

* * *

><p>The Silver Rush wasn't far, its glittering sign clearly visible even against the light morning sky. Brianna glanced at her Pip-Boy from time to time, fiddling with the dials and noticing that the gadget provided an option for viewing any status changes that were currently going on in her body. When she brought it up, the device listed:<p>

**HANGOVER - NEGATIVE PERCEPTION**

**HANGOVER - NEGATIVE CO-ORDINATION**

**HANGOVER - NEGATIVE HYDRATION**

**ARMOUR - DMG PROTECTION + 25**

**TORSO - HEALING**

**HEAD - ERROR_SUBJECT_DECEASED_?**

**re-calculating...**

The walk continued with idle conversation. Veronica and Sunny had at least become accustomed to the troubled woman who was Rose of Sharon Cassidy, and both of them seemed to have grown closer after their night sharing a room. That was interesting. Veronica spent some time explaining that she'd left the Brotherhood after an argument with their Elder over something called a Codex. She described them as "hideously introverted, self-obsessed assholes", and that had been the end of that conversation, replaced by Cass' voice as she sang a few quiet bars of a song. Something about a ranger with a big iron on his hip.

The Silver Rush had once been a large casino, distinguishable from any other Freeside building by the large sign that appeared to have crashed into the partially collapsed upper floor. A white spray of graffiti - WE SELL WEAPONS FULLY CHARGED WITH NO EXTRA CHARGE - was enough to tell passers-by that they'd find more than just slot machines inside. A guard was positioned at the front door, wielding a huge plasma rifle.

"Woah there," he said, "I'm afraid I can't let you in. No weapons allowed in here but the ones we're selling. You'd best hand 'em over."

"Sure, no problem," Sunny smiled, handing over her pistol and shooting Brianna a pointed glare.

"Thank you, ma'am." He set the weapon into a large metal container to his right. "Trust me, your weapons are as safe as kittens in there, and once you see the stuff we're selling, you'll be throwing it away without a second thought."

Brianna disagreed. "You're selling dual-split laser rifles for over a thousand caps. I could buy a_ thousand _Nuka Colas for that much, and the bottles would probably do more damage."

She would have made her point further, but Cass dragged her inside. Sunny left Cheyenne outside - something about health and safety - before joining them again.

There was a cry of alarm. Brianna reached for the pistol she wouldn't find before her arm was grabbed from the inside and painfully twisted behind her back. She struggled against her captor, planting a hard kick on his shin. Her metal boots clashed ineffectively against his armour. She could only watch as her companions were seized in a similar fashion, Cass spitting curses and threats.

"What is this?!" Brianna demanded.

A gloved hand covered her mouth. "You're interrupting here," the mercenary warned. "Keep your mouth shut and let the Van Graffs take care of business."

Her further struggling earned her a hard knock to the head, silencing her protests. She watched the scene before her through the crosswire fence that separated them from the lower floor. A woman stood behind the weapons desk with her arms folded, listening to a man in a white suit. A guard in heavy metal armour stood to the side. Jean-Baptiste Cutting, Gloria Van Graff's twin brother. His plasma rifle was aimed at a cowering man who was kneeling on the floor.

"Mr. Soren, please get to the point," the woman urged, her voice smooth and sultry. "Your payment is late and I want to know why."

"Miss Van Graff, my associates and I have decided that we would like to renegotiate the terms of our deal." His voice was calm, all business.

"Might I ask for what reason? The shipment was delivered in perfect condition. The guns were tested before leaving this facility."

"Regardless, we feel that the quality of the weapons is far below expectation and hope to adjust the price accordingly."

"Ah. I believe I understand what the issue here is. Would you excuse me for a moment?" She asked, but remained still. Brianna knew she had no intention of leaving.

"Do it."

A flash of neon green moved in a slow wave towards the captive, hitting his body without a sound. It happened all at once. The hostage's body lit up in a brilliant display of yellow light, then he was nothing more than ashes, taking the form of his old body for a split second before falling into a pile on the floor.

"Never break faith with the Van Graffs, Mr. Soren," the woman warned. "I expect you'll have our payment ready for tomorrow morning."

The man did not reply. He took a few unsteady paces back before bolting from the room, flying up the steps and releasing an involuntary whimper of terror. Brianna could see the dark stain spreading across his crotch as he sped past her, throwing himself out the door.

"Alright everyone, show's over," the woman announced. "Let the customers go."

The guard released her and returned to his post without a word. The others did the same.

"A- are you alright?" Sunny asked, her face pale and wrought with concern.

"Better than that guy."

"Great," Cass complained. "What are the odds of us being vaporised before we reach that desk?"

"I don't fancy my chances," Veronica replied, her eyes darting around uncertainly, never focusing on the one place for long. Lowering her voice, she continued, "I'm from the Brotherhood, and I've never seen so many energy weapons in my lifetime. If McNamara found out about this place, I think his stress ulcer would explode."

Brianna felt inclined to believe her as they descended the steps. The place was a Brotherhood Knight's wet dream. A plasma caster served as the counter's centrepiece, a deadly-looking weapon with a sleek metal body. She'd never seen one in action, but she'd heard stories about the agony super-heated plasma could inflict at such a high speed. A number of laser pistols, plasma rifles and flamers lined the desk and walls. She felt like Chet back in Goodsprings, gazing upon the weapons with hungry eyes.

"Sorry about the wait," said Gloria Van Graff as she leaned over the desk. "We had some business to take care of. It wasn't our intention to let you through the door, but don't worry. I'll be having a long talk with our guard."

"Oh, uh, you don't have to do that," Sunny stammered. "Really, it's okay."

"That's strange. You think you get an input?"

"No, no, that's not it at all, it's just-"

"It's just nothing, I assume? Good. Wonderful."

Brianna eyed the Van Graff with cautious interest. The woman was strikingly beautiful, watching her with eyes of gun-metal grey. Her flawless skin was a deep shade of brown, her face sharply angled and stunning although she had no hair to frame it. Her full lips were curled into a constant smirk and her eyebrows were dramatically angled. She was one of the few people in the room not wearing armour, instead donning a silvery blue jumpsuit with a plunging neckline.

"Uh, we were looking for work," Sunny said.

"Work?" She asked, pouting her perfect lips in a look of feigned surprise. "Oh, my apologies. I assumed you were a caravan company."

Cass stepped forward to face Gloria. A look of realisation flickered on her face. "The caravan got destroyed."

_Shit got bad, alright?_

"Actually, it was burned."

_Burned to ash along with the driver._

"Vaporised."

_And they didn't even take the cargo._

"But you wouldn't know anything about that."

_They just burned that too._

"Would you?"

Gloria's face was a peaceful mask as she glanced at her brother.

"Kill them."

Everything happened in rapid speed. Cutting readied his plasma caster. Cass leapt over the counter, knocking weapons to the ground as she clawed at Gloria's scalp. Veronica grabbed the cannister of a flamer and rushed for Cutting, slamming the object into his head before he could fire a shot. Brianna grabbed the nearest weapon she could find. A laser pistol. She readied the weapon just as two Van Graff thugs came running down the steps, guns ready.

The first three shots went straight to the face. The guard hissed, firing jets of plasma in her direction. The pain was searing, but she bit down on her tongue and leapt aside, unloading six more shots in rapid succession and sending the guard down with an agonised wail. A laser whizzed passed her ear, burning through skin and cartilage. She wasted no time, firing a round into the mercenary's head before grabbing a magazine from the counter and quickly reloading.

Another thug came running towards her before she could react, laser rifle in hand. The first shot hit her armour. The second cut across her arm. The third went straight to her face. She dropped her weapon with a cry of pain, blinded by hot tears.

_"Fuck!"_

She attempted to straighten herself. Couldn't. There was no more oxygen in her lungs; her heart was desperately pumping and pounding in her ears as another shot cut through her chest. _Only a flesh wound, _she thought dully, unable to make sense of what was happening as everything around her slowed. She could see a flash of red, a streak of green. Had they shot her in the lungs? Why couldn't she breathe? Everything was a blur.

_"Brianna!"_

And then it wasn't. The world sharpened. Noise swelled in her ears. She stumbled against a weapon rack for support as she attempted to catch her breath, watching as Sunny fired three shots of a plasma pistol into one guard's head. The stuff clung to his face like a glowing green mask. When he tried to peel it off, layers of skin came off in his hands. She had to do something. Searching frantically for a target, she found Veronica wrestling with Jean-Baptiste, trying to wrench the plasma caster from his hands. He threw her against the desk and slammed the weapon across her face.

Brianna leapt into action, sprinting for the Van Graff and reaching onto the counter for the nearest weapon.

_This'll be interesting._

She threw herself at Cutting. He stumbled back, allowing her just enough time to pull the pin on the pulse grenade. She pinned him back against the wall and sank her teeth into his face. When he opened his mouth to scream, she shoved the explosive down his throat. His eyes bulged. The weapon fell from his grip. The blast went off. A concentrated wave of electricity erupted out of the Van Graff's mouth, shooting upwards and outwards into a crackling dome around him. His body twisted and contorted in a wild dance as volts of electricity crackled across his metal armour.

_"No!"_ Gloria cried, attempting to throw her aside. Brianna span around and dug her nails into Gloria's wrist, pinning her down against the desk.

"Cass! Make the bitch eat her hair."


	17. Poisoned Places

**FREESIDE**

**JULY 23**

**09:21**

They were a walking arsenal, energy weapons pulsing on every inch of their bodies, triumphant smirks on their lips. Plasma grenades tied to belts, flamethrowers thrown over their backs, laser pistols tied, taped and holstered to each leg.

They did not go unnoticed.

An empty whiskey bottle smashed at Cass' feet. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Someone thundered.

"Hand the weapons over, cunts!" A woman yelled. "Fuck you! Fuck you!"

"Who the hell are you?!"

"Y' can't just march in here and start killin' people!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Sunny shot a nervous glance in Brianna's direction as the crowd swelled, the rats of Freeside crawling out from their darkened alleyways and chem-littered pits to express their rage. Not many of them, but enough to slow the group. Enough to stop them. "What do we do?"

"We're personified energy weapons," Veronica reminded her. "We just keep on walking."

Brianna opened her mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by another bellowing chorus of "Fuck you! Fuck you!"

"I don't see energy weapons on a single one of you!" Brianna yelled back. "They were robbing you blind!"

"We sell weapons at Mick and Ralph's!" A young boy offered, waving a sign that read **MIK AND RALFS.**

"There you go, folks!" Cass yelled. "Mick and Ralph's!"

The crowd continued to yell profanities. Brianna barely resisted the urge to pull out her pistol and send them all running.

It was Sunny who asked what they'd all been wondering. "If there's another weapons dealer, why are they so angry at us?"

"Because we're sick!" A woman yelled. "We're sick and tired of having shit stolen from us in this place! You think we're here 'cause we wanna be here? We're here 'cause we don't got anywhere else! Those Vegas fuckers have it real good in there and we're left to scavenge and steal out here while they're eating up our food and pissing away our drink!"

"And what do you want us to do about it?!" Brianna demanded.

"Stop stealing what little we have!"

"Fuck them! Fuck 'em!"

"Fuck _you!" _She answered back. "And fuck Vegas! Fuck Mr. House!"

To her surprise, they all chanted in unison.

"Fuck Mr. House! Fuck Mr. House! Fuck Mr. House!"

* * *

><p>"I think I need a new brain," Veronica complained, rubbing her head.<p>

"Tell me about it," Brianna muttered.

"Aw, you poor babies," Sunny cooed. "Not as tough as you thought you were, huh?" She smiled. "I don't quite think the Followers are gonna patch you both up if you're armed to the teeth with energy weapons, so you'll have to stick it out for a while. And if you want enough money for the credit check, then the Gun Runners are the way forward, right?"

Brianna grudgingly agreed. They'd left Freeside behind them for now, and probably for the better. The place was chaos, with people fighting in the streets and screaming empty threats about bringing Vegas down. One man swore he would make Mr. House eat his own shit, so perhaps they could afford to keep their distance for a while.

The Gun Runners shack stood just outside the walls of Freeside. The place was far from extravagant, shoddily constructed from old wood, with two large floodlights nailed on the roof to illuminate the scrap metal sign that spelled out **GN RUN. **Brianna wondered absently where the missing letters had gone to.

She was the first to approach the shack. A long window had been built in to allow full view of the weapons that lay inside, lining the interior walls. She saw pistols, assault rifles, shotguns, blades. An egg-shaped robot stood right in the middle of it, stepping around in circles while it waited for a new customer to arrive.

"Well, hot damn!"

Brianna looked up to see a stranger sitting on the workbench in front of the shack. "How many Silver Rush thugs did you have to blow for that fine haul?"

"Every last one of 'em," Cass replied. "If blowing their fucking heads off counts."

"Oh, uh, right." He cleared his throat. "Right."

Brianna studied him for a moment. The guy was certainly attractive, with sun-tanned skin and dishevelled brown hair. In sleeveless leather armour, his heavily muscled arms were fully on display, marked by two full sleeves of tattoos. An assault rifle was slung over his shoulder and a pair of binoculars hung loosely from his neck. She couldn't be sure, but she was almost certain that she'd met him before.

"Well, my name's Wolfgang. Nice to meet you all. You can head on over to Bob there and place your items through the slot. There's a tray coming out the other side, so you can make exchanges as you please."

"Bob?" Sunny inquired.

"Oh, yeah, the robot. Thought Vendortron was a pretty lame name for a robot."

"And Wolfgang?" Veronica asked, her expression doubtful.

"Yep. Crazy Wolfgang, at your service." He flashed a wicked smile. "Used to trade junk down in DC, now look at me," he beamed.

"DC?" Brianna asked, moving over to meet him. "That's where I came from."

"That so?" He asked, jumping at the opportunity to look her up and down. "Don't know if I recognise you."

"I wouldn't forget your face," she smiled, doing the exact same thing.

"Strange that we both wound up here, to and from the exact same place. Think it's fate?"

"I think it's time we sold these weapons," Sunny urged.

"Go right on ahead, babe," said Wolfgang. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

"Oooh, a Vendortron," Veronica observed, as Brianna joined them in front of the shack. "Original pre-war model, version three. Not bad, I guess, but if you're looking for some extra transaction and mobility speed, you might wanna try a Protectron- Mark Four if you can get your hands on one, or upgrade it yourself. A few changes in coding, some recorded vocal input and you're good to go." She flashed a smile at Wolfgang, who returned it with a smitten expression. This guy couldn't believe his luck.

Veronica removed six pulse guns from beneath her robes. She set five on the tray, keeping the last for herself. "These things are deadly to robots. Not very friendly to people wearing metal armour either, like that nice Van Graff demonstrated. It's the electronic equivalent of a disease from that ghoul hooker back in Freeside."

**"SCANNING ITEM,"** the robot droned. **"SCANNING. PROCESSING ITEM VALUE. PROCESSING. ITEM VALUES PROCESSED. COMPLETE TRANSACTION?"**

"There's a lot more where that came from," Cass replied, removing the fuel canister from her back and setting it on the tray, followed by a number of laser pistols. Brianna got to work soon after, parting with her plasma caster and plasma grenades. Sunny was the last to give up her haul, consisting of a dozen plasma mines and a laser rifle almost bigger than she was.

**"PROCESSING ITEM VALUE. SCANNING. SCANNING. DISPENSING... DISPENSING..."**

Brianna groaned with impatience.

**"DISPENSING 5635 CAPS."**

Cass gave a low whistle. Sunny's eyes widened in amazement while Veronica beamed.

Brianna's heart almost stopped.

_Five thousand six hundred and thirty-five._

The numbers flashed in her brain. Over five thousand caps from a haul of energy weapons. She struggled to process it. She'd never seen that kind of money in her lifetime. Over the past few months, she hadn't seen anything beyond fifty caps. But this was more than that. This was more than the money that would get them into Vegas. This was freedom. She'd been stuck in that flashing, neon flytrap for such a long time. She'd owned nothing, nothing but a pathetic bundle of lingerie that wasn't even hers. How sad was that? A weak, uncertain flutter of laughter escaped from behind her lips. She couldn't believe it.

_Five thousand six hundred and thirty-five._

"Hey," Sunny said with a smile. "You all right?"

"Y-yeah," she managed. "I ju-"

**"DISPENSING FAILED."**

Her entire body froze, every muscle, every bone. There was only the faintest movement of her lips parting, her jaw dropping in shock.

"No. That- that isn't- that's not-"

"Old thing can't carry enough caps to suit your price, huh?" Wolfgang grinned. "Gimme a second and I'll head inside, get you your payment."

And with that he headed off into the Gun Runners building.

Brianna burst into a flood of tears, reaching for Sunny and hugging her tightly while she sobbed.

* * *

><p>"You sure you'll be okay?"<p>

Brianna mumbled something in reply, refusing to meet Sunny's eyes. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she thought of a million different ways she could curse her own name. Sure, that money meant a lot to her, but wasn't she above bursting into tears in front of people who might have been her friends? Her fists clenched tighter. She wasn't supposed to have friends, not anymore. When she'd taken that courier job she'd promised herself that. Friendship had ripped her apart too many times before, dragged her down every goddamn time, and that job had been too important to let that happen again.

_A caravan overturned, tumbling into the canyon._

_Sending bodies to float down a river she didn't know, in a country she didn't know, with a pang of anguish she knew all too well._

_Hammering on glass with all her strength as strong hands dragged her away._

_"I'll be back soon. I promise."_

"Chin up," Cass said with a teasing smirk. "You're not the first asshole to have a breakdown out here."

"And that's coming from you?"

"Hey, I was always the one to pick you up, right?"

"And now you've changed."

Cass opened her mouth to reply, but bit her tongue. Hesitated. "I haven't changed all that much, you know."

"We're here," Sunny announced.

"Great," Veronica replied. "I haven't died of internal bleeding yet."

The Old Mormon Fort was far from harbouring advanced medical science. Six large, beige-coloured tents were protected by four crumbling stone walls. The word **NURSE **was written in scrap metal letters behind one of them, and the Follower's flag waved high in the air, a black cross inside a circle on a field of plain white. Men and women in lab coats milled about the area, tending to the patients who rested inside the tents or scribbling notes on a pad. One woman in particular stood out as she made her way towards the group.

"Oh, you must be here to drop off medical supplies," she said, eyeing the group with slight apprehension. She was surprisingly attractive - beautiful, even - with piercing steel-blue eyes and light blonde hair spiked into a mohawk. She stood out form the other doctors with her clunky black boots and the studs in her ears. Her grey tank dipped just enough at the neckline to hint at tattoos.

"Actually, we're here for medical treatment," Sunny clarified.

Disappointment fell over the doctor's face. "Oh. What exactly do you need?"

"A new brain," Veronica suggested.

"Blunt trauma to the head?"

"And to the rest of my whole body, yeah."

"I can check for any signs of a concussion, maybe spare you a stimpak or two if we have enough." She looked uncertain for a moment, before her eyes locked on Brianna. She frowned. "Looks like you've had a beating too. What happened?"

"Got shot."

"Follow me."

She led them towards the nearest tent to their right, ushering them in through the flap.

"I'll check you first," She said, gesturing for Veronica to sit at the table.

The doctor introduced herself as Julie Farkas as she rummaged around in a medical bag, producing a small flashlight from within. "I'll give you a short examination at the cost of fifty caps, more if you need further treatment. It might seem like a lot, but it's Freeside. The number of people limping in here with injuries like yours are appallingly high. We've been trying to cut a deal with those lecherous Garret twins to see if they'll support us financially. For now, though, we're stuck with raising the prices for people who can afford it. Veronica, is it? Look up, please."

The process didn't take long. Veronica hopped down from the table unconcussed after a few minutes of questioning and a short examination.

"If you don't mind," the doctor began, looking to Brianna, "I'd like your friends to leave for now. You'll have to take off your armour in order for me to get a good look at the damage. Are you comfortable with that?"

"Sure," she replied, signalling for her companions to leave. "I think I'll be fine."

"Think I'll go get a whiskey," Cass mumbled, heading out of the tent. Sunny and Veronica followed suit, closing the flap behind them.

"Guess I have a habit of stripping for strange doctors," Brianna said, kicking off her armour.

The doctor's eyes widened in alarm when she saw the stinging wound on Brianna's side. "When was that inflicted?" She asked, slipping on a pair of gloves.

"About an hour ago," she guessed.

Farkas frowned. "That's a Pip-Boy you're wearing, isn't it? Have you checked your health stats recently?"

"It said I was healing."

She crouched down to get a better look at the injury. "Looks like there was already some untreated wound there. Am I correct?"

"Got stabbed a little bit with a crowbar. Twice. Then I got lasered in the face and just about everywhere else. Think I lost some of my ear too."

"You're lucky you came to me when you did. Repeated trauma will have delayed the healing process on your torso. It's infected. Not uncommon thanks to radiation and poor nutrition, which can't exactly be helped. It might take a while, but I can patch you up."

"This is gonna cost me a fortune, isn't it?"

"It might. But that wound can't go untreated for much longer. The burn on your face will heal in time, but you'll be scarred noticeably if you don't let me treat it."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think one more scar's gonna make much of a difference."

"Yes, I noticed that," she said, standing up to peer at her scar. "What on earth happened to you?"

"Shot in the head."

"Recently? That's incredible. I mean, no, of course it isn't, but-" She cleared her throat, but Brianna could see that she was laughing at herself. "I'm sorry, I'm just very impressed."

"I bet you say that to all your gunshot patients."

"You know what? I'll spare you one of our super stimpaks, if you don't mind nausea and fatigue, that is. It should kickstart the healing process for your injuries. You'd be best taking it before bed."

"Sounds great."

The doctor readied herself for the treatment of Brianna's infected torso, beginning to clean away the blood and grime with a wet cloth. "Would you mind if I asked you a question? It's about your friend, the one in the hat."

"Cass?"

She seemed to be thinking over her words before she said them. "Freeside is a horrible place. The Followers only strive to make it better, to make it a welcoming place where we can share knowledge openly and help people in need. We would never turn away an addict, but they're one of the main reasons for the exhaustion of our supplies. Do you know if your friend experiences any excessive nervous habits? Does she show any signs of nausea, headaches-?"

"You're asking me if she's an alcoholic."

"Yes, I am."

"This is the first time I've seen her in years."

"I understand. Would you mind if I confronted her myself? You would be there too, of course. It's really not hard to treat addicts as long as you have a good supply of Fixer, but they have to be willing to take their medication on a regular basis and their mental cravings won't go away for a while. Fixer concentrates on the physical symptoms of addiction - exhaustion, lack of appetite or binge-eating, depression caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. We can fix those symptoms. But it's up to you to convince her to stay away from alcohol."

"You want Whiskey Rose to stop drinking whiskey?"

"Drinking is fine in moderation. I'll explain everything to her when you're fixed up."

Brianna closed her eyes and let her wrap a clean bandage around her waist. The doctor described each procedure under her breath in a soft, clear voice as she undid the bandage around Brianna's neck, cleaning the wound gently and promising that fresh air would help it heal. Every touch, every uttered syllable sent tingles rushing down Brianna's spine. The only time she raised her voice was to gush over the delightful scar on her throat.

_God, this woman's an angel._

"That's all I can do," she said. "I've cleaned up your face and I can supply with that super stimpak if you want."

"Go right ahead."

* * *

><p>"What? You think I'm some kinda addict 'cause I've got things I wanna forget?"<p>

"No," Brianna replied, "I think you're an addict because you promised me that you'd sort yourself out. Do you even remember winding up at the Wrangler, passed out drunk? How much have you had to drink since then?"

"You know what I do to people who judge me?"

"You shoot your mouth off and let them watch while you drink yourself to death."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"I know everything about you, Cass! You were my best friend! Things change, I get that, but you don't have to go down this way."

"I haven't changed a damn bit."

"No, you have. You know, I always liked you because you were smart. You saw things that no one else could see, picked up on little details no one else noticed. You actually had something worthwhile to say. You wanted to make a difference, even if selling water was the best you could do. But now you don't care. You don't care about anything beyond that bottle."

"That isn't true! I've gone through a lot of shit, Brianna, but I haven't let that change me." Tears were welling up in her eyes. "Me an' whiskey, maybe we're a little too closely acquainted. But that's it."

"That's it? Then tell me what went through your head when you made the decision to follow us. What are your goals, your motives? What do you _want?"_

"I-"

"Oh, wait. I know exactly why you joined us! Because if you decided to stay, you'd end up spending the rest of your life searching for answers at the bottom of a dusty old bottle. You knew that! So why won't you let us help?! Even when I was trapped in New Vegas with nowhere else to go, I never-"

"I'm not you!"

"And since I've already poured out my emotions today, can't hurt to do it once last time, right? I _missed _you, Cass. You were the most thoughtful person I've ever met. One of the most interesting, the most fun. And now you're an alcoholic. That's it! That's everything! All the good stuff you had, it's _gone. _You drowned yourself in whiskey, Cass. You don't exist anymore."

Tears fell freely down Cass' flushed cheeks. "I fucked up. I fucked up so, so bad. All I-"

"No. I'm not done. Because you know what the worst part is about all this? The worst part is that you always drank. All the time. You never went anywhere without a bottle of whiskey. And that was fine, that was great, that was _you. _It isn't that you turned to drink to get away from your problems, that didn't happen. Everything good about you, all that thoughtfulness and wit, it just faded. That's what happened, isn't it? I know it is. Those good parts just faded away and only Whiskey Rose was left behind."

"So I'm the same person, but I'm just... less. Less of what I was. That it?"

Brianna nodded.

"And why should I do anything about that?"

"You're Rose of Sharon Cassidy. Figure out."

She thought for a moment. "Because after all this shit, after my dear daddy left me behind, after I had to switch from trading alcohol to trading water so I wouldn't be left with nothing but empty bottles clinking behind me, after the caravan got burned to ash, I haven't stopped wanting this thing. This _one _thing. I just want change. I want less crying old fuck-ups like me crawling around this place and wasting so much life. I want people to stop laying on their asses just waiting for some goddamn miracle to happen. I want to make a difference."

"And you will. We burned the Silver Rush to ash, Cass."

"Yeah. Yeah, we did."

Cass turned to the doctor, who was watching them with something close to fascination. "Alright, what do I have to do? How do I part ways with my old friend?"

Julie Farkas grinned. "Wonderful! I'll be supplying you with a few doses of Fixer, which semi-permanently clears most addictions. It'll make you feel a little woozy for a while, but that's just the effects kicking in. Fixer helps to get rid of any physical habits and problems that occur as a result of the addiction, as well as covering the withdrawal symptoms. What it doesn't do is fix your conscious desire for alcohol. While your body will no longer feel that it needs alcohol to survive, it's up to you to shake the feeling that you need it to be happy or, in your case, to forget any of your troubles."

"Sure, sure. How much?"

"Free."

Brianna raised an eyebrow.

"It's as I said: addiction is a common problem in Freeside and it destroys a lot of good people who could be extremely helpful in improving conditions here in the city. I don't want to charge you for trying to help the situation." On a hasty afterthought, she added, "But I would appreciate a favour. The Followers simply don't have enough money or supplies to continue providing free help for addicts. If you could, perhaps, help us form an agreement with the Garrets-"

"Deal."

"Wonderful. I'll sort out that Fixer for you right away."

And with that, she made a hasty disappearance into the tent.

"That was like a pre-war soap opera," Veronica commented, drifting over with Sunny to meet them.

"Yeah," Sunny agreed, before looking to Cass. "I'm glad you're getting the help you need."

"Thanks, blondie," Cass replied.

"So what now?"

"Now we hunt down Lady Jane, sort a deal out with those creepy twins and make the world a happier place."

"Sounds great."


	18. A Chink in the Armour

**FREESIDE**

**JULY 23**

**11:10**

"Of all the rat-infested alleyways in this place, you had to pick the one with a half-eaten body in it."

Lady Jane breathed a sigh of disinterest. "I am afraid that, given my current financial situation, I simply cannot afford any other place to stay," she explained gently, pursing her plump, pink lips. It was as if every syllable of every word was a precious ornament, meticulously straightened and polished to perfection. "And, if I am quite right in saying so, you have no business insulting me. I do believe that I have seen you before, would I be right? Inside the Atomic Wrangler, I think. And you weren't wearing an awful lot, if I recall correctly."

Anger flashed in Brianna's eyes.

"Oh, I _am _correct, then?" She nodded, as if answering her own question. "Then you most _certainly _have no business acting so condescendingly towards me. While it is true that I have found myself in a rather frowned upon line of work, well, I think you'll find that you, my dear, have done worse."

"You'd best watch your pretty little mouth, sweetheart," Cass warned. "You wouldn't want to see it ripped off, would ya?"

Lady Jane's friends were less than pleased with that threat. There were six in total, with sunken faces and ragged leather armour. Only one carried a pistol. He was the tallest and the toughest, with dark, tattooed skin and bulging muscles. The rest carried baseball bats and tire irons, leaving the smug Lady Jane looking ridiculously out-of-place with her petite frame, pink frock, and waved hair.

"I would advise, for you own safety, that you didn't talk to me that way," she smiled, pausing for a moment to study the group. Her gaze hovered for a moment over Sunny, who stood on her own, without Cheyenne. She'd felt it best to leave her outside the Old Mormon Fort, worried that the dog would get scared and attack. Maybe that wouldn't have been a bad thing.

"You, dear, seem to be the most civilized out of this band of louts," she noted. "That gorgeous hair, those patient eyes... and your poor, poor injury." She glanced down at Sunny's bandaged stump. "No doubt caused by one of these degenerates," she said coolly.

"No. You're wrong."

"Am I?"

"Look, we just want your money, princess," Brianna growled. "Two hundred and ten caps. You know who it's for."

"Does it look like I _have _money?!" She demanded, her calm demeanour quickly spiralling into panic. "I have nothing left!"

"Oh, we understand," Cass replied. "See, my caravan was shot down too, but I still pay for my goddamn drinks."

"Where's the money you've been earning selling chems?" Sunny pried.

"Or maybe you've been busy sampling your own merchandise," Cass suggested.

Lady Jane scoffed. "I would never try that filth."

"Let me tell you where we stand here," Brianna said, drawing her pistol. "Nobody fucks with the Garret twins, and nobody fucks with me. So unless you want that pretty dress ruined, hand over the caps."

"Are you sure that would be wise? I have six men behind me who would kill for me on command. That's just how much of a respectable, trustworthy woman I am. And there are four more behind you. It's funny how imperceptible you can be when you are so distracted by a pretty face."

Her pistol was wrenched from her grip. Something heavy slammed down on the side of her head, knocking her into semi-consciousness.

"I am a civilised person," Lady Jane explained as they were grabbed, arms twisted behind their backs. "I will gladly instruct my friends to escort you back to the Atomic Wrangler, but only if you drop your weapons and whatever caps that are currently on your person."

"Go fuck yourself," Brianna hissed.

"Oh?" She frowned. "How unfortunate. I was hoping we could make this easy. Well, I suppose my friends here will simply have to dispose-"

_"No!"_

Lady Jane froze as Sunny broke free from her captor's grip, ramming her elbow into his cheek before spinning around and punching him in the nose. Yelling in pain, he fell to the ground as Sunny unholstered her pistol, firing a quick round into the chest of another. That was enough to send the remaining five surging towards her, with Lady Jane looking on in horror. Brianna continued to fight the man who held her while Sunny slammed the butt of her gun into the head of another junkie. His legs kicked out from beneath him and he dropped to the ground. After another was sent down with two bullets in his arm, Brianna finally managed to break free, throwing the heavy man off her and slicing through his skull with her axe before he could lunge towards her.

Sunny's gun was ripped from her hand. She barely flinched, twisting the crowbar out from the thug's hands and slamming it into his side. Into his chest. Into his head. Soon he was lying in a bloodied heap and his killer was moving onto her next attacker, who soon had a crowbar rammed through his eye. Sunny kicked the body away, stooped down to retrieve her gun, and fired two ringing shots. The thug behind Veronica fell first, followed by the one holding Cass, who shot a poorly hidden look of disbelief in Brianna's direction.

"Did you know she could do that?"

Brianna shook her head, turning to see Sunny aiming her pistol at Lady Jane.

"I don't like raiders," she growled.

"B- but you're-"

"I'm taking back what you owe the Garrets. That's all."

The colour drained from the woman's face. She smoothed out her frock and slowly moved for the nearest dumpster, careful not stain her pink heels with blood. After gingerly opening it, she retrieved a leather bag from inside and tossed it at Sunny's feet. "T-take it," she stammered. "Oh my- oh my goodness..." She looked down at the corpses around her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Just go," she breathed. "Just go."

Sunny slowly holstered the pistol and stooped down to retrieve the bag. "And one more thing," she said, taking a step closer to the cowering woman.

"Nobody fucks with the Garret twins, nobody fucks with my friends, and _nobody _fucks with me."

* * *

><p>The streets were quiet. A few men with sleek black hair and leather jackets swaggered along the road, cigarettes between their lips. A few locals argued with each other in a belligerent, drunken stupor while the blonde crier from the Atomic Wrangler swatted away the groping hands of a drunk who had just stumbled out of the Wrangler. If anyone heard the fight in the alleyway, they didn't care enough to investigate. Either way, if they were indifferent to a gunshot, they wouldn't give a damn if Brianna tried to beat information out of Sunny Smiles. She'd been curious before, perhaps, but now she was intent on finding out what was up with this girl.<p>

"Alright, what was that?"

"Don't," Sunny snapped. "Just don't."

"What? You want me to keep quiet about that whole thing? You're gonna give the money to the Garrets and go on being sweet, innocent Sunny Smiles, is that it?"

"I think you two need couples counselling," Veronica muttered.

"So you can do it and I can't?" Sunny demanded, turning to face her. Her expression was pure anger, alien and unnatural on her face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. I've seen you blow up an- an entire _mob_ of Powder Gangers with a smile on your face! And just a few hours later you were ruffling my hair and helping me clean my bandages. But you know what? I can live with that! Because I like you, because we're friends."

"What's your point?"

"My point? My point is that I never, ever pry for information. Yes, I try to stop you from getting us into trouble, but I never make demands and I never make you feel like you're a terrible person because you do bad things. I've seen bad people, Brianna. I'm optimistic, sure, but I'm not blind. I've seen people do disgusting things, and you know what? You're one of the worst. _You._ And you try to brush all that away by claiming to do bad things for good reasons, but I know that's bullshit! You do bad things because you _want _to, and you know what? I just accept it. I really, honestly do. Not because there's a good person hiding deep down inside you, but because you _are _a good person. In some ways, maybe. So yes, I will just go back to being my usual self, but I will _not _pretend to be naïve. I won't lie about who I am, and whatever information I'm holding back, it's because it's _my _business. _Mine. _And maybe I'll tell you someday, whenever I feel comfortable. But not now. Because I do not have to justify what I did. Not for you."

Brianna stood in stunned silence, with the unnerving feeling that she had just been dissected, her insides presented to everyone around her. But despite the embarrassment she felt, despite the burning fuck-knows-what emotion that was drilling a hole through her chest, she felt... something. Something like pride, perhaps. It wasn't love, of course. And not quite admiration.

Respect. She felt a swelling respect for Sunny Smiles.

"Alright," she replied. "I can live with that."

* * *

><p>"Two hundred... two hundred and one..."<p>

"You think we'd risk our lives just to half-ass the job in the end?" Cass snapped. "The money's there."

"No," Francine replied curtly, gathering up the caps and putting them back in the leather bag. All except for two towers. "But some unfortunate son of a bitch last week was running a similar job, tried to pass off a hundred as a hundred and fifty. I figured if you were going to try the same, you'd do it a tad more subtly."

"I think you could live a full, healthy life without a handful of extra caps in your pocket," Veronica said.

"And I think you should keep your mouth before I charge you extra for it."

"Take it up with my lawyer."

"Well," Francine concluded, "I'm glad that business is settled. I don't know what became of that junkie bitch and I don't care. I heard all about you four. Some fight with the Silver Rush? Good. Glad to see 'em outta the way. Everyone saw you parading around with those weapons, and now you're not, so I'm sure you can afford a better room that what you'll find in this place."

"Told you the beds had lice in 'em," Veronica muttered.

"The rooms in here don't have any more bugs than you'd find in Vegas. That's where you're headed, right?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," Brianna warned. "But you can keep the caps. All of 'em. Shove them up your brother's asshole for all I care." She feigned a look of embarrassment and hastily added, "Oh, wait. He's already getting robo-dong up his ass, isn't that right?"

"I wouldn't know. What I _do_ know is that you've been programmed to fuck just as well as that robot. Or did you forget about those times when you'd-"

Brianna slammed her palms down on the counter and leaned over it, her face barely an inch from the bartender's. "Go ahead, Francine, say whatever you want. But I got out of this place, and you're still stuck here selling cheap liquor to junkies." She grinned, then distanced herself. "Don't start thinking you have any power here, Francie, and don't start thinking you have a fucking thing over me."

* * *

><p>Julie's eyes lit up like a burning fuse. "Truly?" She asked. "They're agreeing to our terms?"<p>

"Absolutely," Sunny grinned, because somehow, remarkably, she'd managed to cool down the seething bartender and convince her that helping out the Followers of the Apocalypse would not, in any way, benefit Brianna O'Reilly. "Francine Garret is asking for you to go over there and negotiate the payment, but she seems pretty okay with the whole thing. Something about owing you a favour?"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality restricts me from saying too much, but she was in a bad way a little while ago."

"In any case, we're glad we could help you out."

"I'm glad too," Farkas smiled. "Thank you, all of you. You're angels."

And with that, she bounced off.

"Quid agis mane. Quid agitis?"

Brianna looked up to find a man in a white lab coat approaching them, waving a small 'hello' and pushing up his glasses. He was clearly a Follower, but that was all she could tell from the look of him. With a square jaw and tan skin that looked almost unnatural with his white-blonde hair, he stuck her immediately as handsome, only somewhere in his early thirties. But that didn't explain why he'd wished her 'top of the morning' in the Legion's mother tongue. They made their hostility obvious immediately.

"Did some Legionary scream that in bed with you, or did you hear it in a slave camp?" Cass growled.

"Nothing quite so interesting," the stranger replied. "It's amazing what you can learn from a few gladiator films and a good book. I simply wished you good morning."

"Then good morning to you too," Brianna replied. "Now how about you tell me the Latin phrase for 'go fuck yourself'?"

He raised his hands in a non-serious display of innocence. "I'm not from the Legion and never have been," he assured them.

"Then you're not gonna put my head on a spike, great. What do you want?"

"To repay you for what you've done. We don't have much at the minute, but I can spare some stimpaks and Fixer for all of you. Julie Farkas is a saint, and if anyone left in this world deserves happiness, it's her. Maybe it wasn't your original intention, but that's just what you've brought her."

"That's great to hear," Sunny said with a smile.

* * *

><p>"So this is it, then?"<p>

Brianna nodded. She'd figured that tonight would be the best time for them all to see the Strip, meet some people, and probably get wasted along the way. Brianna herself was all too familiar with everything New Vegas had to offer, but she'd made the decision to go in hopes that maybe things would be different this time, now that her intentions were different. And rumours were like currency in Vegas. Her scar would be enough to remind people of who she was - that courier chick from the radio - and not who she wasn't. She wasn't That-Cheap-Fuck-In-Gomorrah anymore, and would never let herself be that again. She was Courier Six, and soon the whole city would know it.

"This is it," she replied, sitting by the mirror in her underwear while her armour soaked in the bath. "Remind me to get really, really drunk."

"Will do," Sunny said, her face was mostly obscured by a ragged towel as Veronica dried off her hair. They hadn't paid for the best room in the Atomic Wrangler, nor had they paid for the use of the bath or the beer they'd taken from the counter. Francine Garret had reluctantly handed everything over for free, presumably because an excitable Julie Farkas had been shooting her hopeful looks. They'd headed back to the bar after stocking up on ammo from Mick and Ralph's. After some free food, drink and a hot bath each, Brianna was feeling perfectly sleepy. Though she supposed that might have had something to do with the super stimpak she'd injected an hour ago.

Sunny ducked beneath the towel. "Okay, I think I'm done being mothered by you," she said with a reluctant smile, sticking her hands in the pockets of an old dressing gown from the wardrobe. She heaved a long sigh, seeming to exhale whatever cheerfulness she'd managed to maintain so far. "It's time we talked, isn't it?"

Veronica shrugged. "You don't have to share your emotional baggage with me."

"Actually, I meant Brianna," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Whatever suits you," Cass said, slinking away from the bed and shooting a look at Veronica. "Time we got to know each other better."

"Can't wait," Veronica replied, getting up to join her.

"Um, I don't really know where to start," Sunny admitted after the door had closed. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, of course. Look, I'm not good with personal things, alright? So how about I just tell you why I let you come with me. I'm gonna tell you that some of my scars are best hidden, but I'm still showing them to you. And I'm not being cute here, I don't want your sympathy. Got it?"

"Show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"You remind me of someone," she blurted. "Shit, I- I don't know how to do this. Everything about you just radiates her, with the cheeriness and the kindness and all the other shit that got her killed." She took a long, shaky breath. "I was nineteen. Left Cassidy's Caravans and went to join the Regulators in DC, the ones I told you about. She was just a kid then, seventeen when I found her.

"Her name was Grace Arlyn. She was beautiful. Really, really beautiful, and smart. She loved science, she could cut a person open and stitch them back together, she knew so much random crap, it was unbelievable. When I met her, she was-" She hesitated. Maybe it was best to leave some details out. "She was crying in the middle of nowhere. I let her sob on my shoulder for a while, let her have some of my water. When she could speak again, she told me everything. Her entire life story, just like that. She grew up in a vault, one of those weird ones that never opened. Her dad left when she was sixteen, no explanation, so she escaped to go find him."

"She should have died out there. No one had ever taught her how to lie or kill or steal. A pretty girl who goes around telling the truth, having morals, being kind, that got all kinds of bad attention. But she survived. She found her dad, learned all about this Brotherhood of Steel project to clean up the water. All the lakes were irradiated, people were starving because they couldn't grow food. But-"

"Brianna," Sunny breathed, eyes wet with tears. "What happened to her?"

"What do you think?" She spat. "She was too good. She was too good to survive out there and she died the same way her dad did. All she had to do was enter a code, activate Project Purity. Except the place had enough radiation to kill a fucking ghoul. I was getting rid of the Enclave outside the building, I- I told her I'd see her soon. I promised her. And I came back too late. When I found her she was slumped against the glass, dying. I don't know who forced me out of there, or what bastard stopped me from dying with her, but I wanted to."

"I'm sorry," Sunny managed.

"And then there's you," she laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Chirpy and bouncy and annoying as hell the first time I met you. And like an idiot, I just let you walk on in and expected things to work out just fine and I _can't." _Her breaths were sharp, shaky inhalations. "I'm not supposed to do this. I'm not supposed to be crying or clinging onto _you _for help because you-" She inhaled sharply, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "You're just like her. You're too good to survive this place and I can't- I can't-"

"Listen to me." She took Brianna by the hands, the soft expression wiped away. "I'm sorry about what happened to your friend, but right now, you need to get over it. I'm not her, Brianna. And I'm not going anywhere any time soon. What you planning on doing in Vegas is dangerous, alright? If you don't pull yourself together and _focus, _then you're going to die. You know that just as well as I do, you've always known what happens to people who show weakness in places like this. Any other day, any other place, I'd let you cry for as long as you needed, I'd let you get everything off your chest, but that can't happen here. We're going to Vegas, right? Time to put on your poker face." She helped Brianna to her feet. "Come on. We've got parties to attend and a killer to track down."

Brianna smiled.

"Vegas, baby."


	19. Releasing Demons

**VEGAS, BABY**

**JULY 23**

**21:59**

"Welcome to sin," Cass muttered, "watch where you step."

The New Vegas Strip was electric, buzzing with the energy of countless people, all here to make their fortune. It was the sweat of naked dancers and the richly dressed men who paid to see them. It was love and lust and luxury. It was sex. It was drink and drugs and the forbidden taste of every poison imaginable. It was neon lights, shining brilliantly against the starless backdrop of a hot Mojave night. But this place did not belong beneath the glowing moon hanging so far above them. It did not share a place with the sand and soil of the Mojave Desert. Even the air was something alien, something wrong.

_It's got the Old World Blues about it._

Even now, she found herself surprised by the people. A group of NCR troopers skipped along the road with bottles in their hands, all giggling and staggering in their intoxication. Every one was laughing, cheering, tripping over their own feet. One of them waved their army's tattered flag. A troop of Securitrons patrolled the area, their screens flashing with the familiar cartoon faces of angry police officers. Outside one of the largest casinos, which glowed with fiery red lights, were a number of leather-clad women seductively wriggling their bodies and running their trembling hands down their thighs. They were beautiful, even with their chem-wasted teeth and bruised legs, the trademark scars of every Vegas whore. For Brianna, the sight was painfully familiar and none too welcoming. She turned away.

Aside from Gomorrah - which promised plenty of other treats besides blackjack tables and slot machines - was the Lucky 38. Towering above the glorified whorehouse below, it pierced the sky with a blinding white sheen. It was one of the tallest buildings Brianna had ever seen, seeming to shoot up for miles and miles. White and yellow lights illuminated the top of the structure, which was shaped to resemble a roulette table. It wasn't accessible from this street, but that wouldn't matter. The doors hadn't opened in centuries. Nobody had entered it since then, and nobody ever would.

"Oh my God," Sunny breathed. "It's amazing, it's- _wow."_

"I can _feel_ the STDs in the air," Veronica remarked. "Hope you all brought protection."

"Where do we even start?" Sunny wondered, Cheyenne giving her hand a worried lick.

"I see a bunch of half-naked women right out there," Veronica replied, gesturing towards Gomorrah.

"You sure you don't wanna find the snake who tried to kill you first?" Cass asked. "What if you find him halfway through the casino crawl when you've got whiskey pouring out your asshole? I don't know the guy, but I know he'll kill you if he catches you off-guard. Or he'll get someone else to do it for him."

Brianna knew she was right. "I've been shooting a pistol since I was six. I don't need to be sober to lodge a couple of bullets in his skull."

Sunny quickly caught up with them as they headed down the street, her tiny legs struggling to compete with the taller women. "Hey," she scolded, "you said you weren't going to make killing him you're priority."

"I won't," she replied, her eyes growing distant. Fiery red lights blurred in her vision as flashes of memories flickered in her mind. After a moment, she shook herself. "That murderous, chequered scumbag is gonna get just what he deserves, and he's gonna get it exactly when I want him to. Right now, I want to get out of this armour, dump these bags, and get myself into something a little more... extravagant."

Veronica's eyes immediately widened as she realised what this meant. The scribe let out a tiny squeak. "You mean it? Really? We're getting dresses? Vegas dresses? I mean, I'm a trusting woman and everything but you're almost absolutely definitely lying. A dress? Like, a good one? For _me?!"_

"Whatever you want," she laughed.

"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my-_ thank you!"_ She rushed towards Brianna and smothered her in a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Pulling back, she quickly readjusted her hood and smiled at the bewildered courier. "I'll name every one of my non-ugly children after you. Seriously."

* * *

><p>Michel Angelo's workshop squatted at the very end of the New Vegas Strip, one of the few places that wasn't lit up entirely by neon. The glittering sign was the only indicator that the derelict building was even occupied at all. Inside, the warehouse was no more extravagant than the exterior. Metal walkways dominated the entirety of the area, creaking noisily to match the whirring of the air conditioning that gave the room a bitter chill.<p>

"If this ain't a casino," Cass began, "what is it and what's the point?"

"The guy who works here is the reason the Strip shines like a star at night," Brianna explained. "Or so he says, in those exact words, every time you talk to him."

"So we'll be wearing neon lights?" Veronica asked. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but we'll sure be hard to miss."

"He makes clothes too. Last time I came here it was to request some fetish wear for Gomorrah's hookers. That was before I became one of 'em."

She earned a questioning look from every one of her companions. Even Cheyenne cocked her head.

"He said no. Offered to make us some dresses instead. Don't think he quite understands what hookers are for."

They passed through the door on their right to find a number of large billboards lying in a pile on the floor. She ducked in through another narrow door to reveal a smaller room in the general structure of a kitchen. A working refrigerator stood in the corner and the place was decorated with various rugs and couches. On one of them sat a man in a blue jumpsuit, beer bottle clutched in hand.

"Oh, hello," he said, getting to his feet and setting the bottle down on the table. With a mop of unkempt hair and a long, narrow face, the man vaguely resembled a brahmin. His face was deathly pale and his skin wrapped tight around his bones, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. "Oh, Christ," he said, looking Brianna up and down before turning to her companions. He took a few nervous steps back. "Oh, Christ. Oh, shit. Oh, Jesus, please tell me you aren't here for the designs. I told you it'd a while, I told you I needed just a little extra time, please, I-"

"Just here to shop," Sunny assured him.

He heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's great. Wonderful. Well, I'm Sheldon from Vault 21. Here I go by my artistic name, Michel Angelo. I'm the reason the Strip shines like a star at night. So if you're not here to tighten my screws like everyone else around here, what brings you by?"

"You gonna tell him?" Veronica asked, glancing towards Brianna. "No, no, can _I _can tell him? Please? I promise I'll shut up for the rest of my life afterwards."

"Knock yourself out."

"Okay, okay, great!" She squeaked, before clearing her throat and attempting to calm her shaking voice. "Ahem, Michel Angelo-" The name broke off into an excitable giggle. "Okay, okay, sorry, sorry, um, we're here because-"

"The lady wants a dress," Cass finished for her, giving the scribe a playful smirk. "Take a breath, sweetcheeks, we don't know what he's charging."

"Actually, this is great!" Angelo grinned, moving towards a rickety shelf across from him and pulling out a large footlocker. "Wonderful, in fact." After a moment, he produced a strange object from the contents of the footlocker and presented to them. "You may recognise this as a camera, used for taking snapshot images of whatever is right in front of you."

"And why should we care about that?" Cass pressed.

"I'd be more than happy to give you any of my spare dresses for free. Plenty of them are traditional 'fifties style, but I decided to alter a few with my own design. Some of them are unlike anything you've ever seen before, I'm certain. All I ask is that you use this to take a few pictures of anything particularly inspiring you come across. I need some inspiration for my new billboards, so please don't take pictures of any New Vegas signs. Even pictures of you all would be helpful," he smiled.

"And you can't do this yourself?" Brianna asked. "Why?"

"It's a bit of a problem for me," he admitted. "Going outside, I mean. I don't know what to call it. A fear? A phobia? I just- I need someone, anyone, to help me with this. Mr. House will have my head on a spike on top of the Lucky 38 if I don't get these designs finished and-"

"We'll do it."

"You mean it? Thank you, thank you. The camera is a design of mine. It wasn't hard to gut out the insides and replace a few things. I added a memory chip which will pop out from here," he indicated to a slot in the camera. "Once it's full. I can then slot it into my-"

"Slot into your anal cavity for all I care. Let's just see what you've got."

* * *

><p>Brianna's eyes flickered restlessly around the room, eyeing the closed door every few moments as she undressed. After collecting their new outfits, the group had checked into Vault 21, the only place in Vegas where Brianna hadn't spent a night. She forced herself into the place on the group's insistence, sick and tired of letting her emotions get the better of her, but, God, she hated vault, she hated enclosed spaces and, after meeting the owner of the place, she hated her too. She couldn't fathom a single thing she needed less than an overly excitable babbling blonde with a bad haircut chatting eagerly about the vault she'd grown up in.<p>

That vault happened to be the spitting image of Vault 101. The bed sheets were a pale grey and had been perfectly smoothed before Cheyenne made her bed there. The walls were steel, reflecting the light of the bulb overhead. A metal dresser stood by the door, tight against the wall. A bobblehead nodded on top of it and a grey vase of fake grey flowers stood on the grey end table. Everything goddamn thing was grey, like one of those old black and white pictures. She couldn't imagine how anyone could possibly live in a place like this, without colour, without life.

"You look fine," Sunny insisted, spotting her in front of the mirror. "You're gorgeous. Seriously."

She smiled. "Not as gorgeous as you."

"Nah, just wait until we raid Veronica's make-up kit. I'm _dying_ to see you in red lipstick."

Brianna flopped down on the bed, stretching languorously over it and giving Sunny a playful smirk. "So, about those hookers," she said. "You up for it?"

She mulled that over for a moment. "I'm asexual."

Brianna frowned, sitting up. "Huh?"

"Flirting, picking up guys, the whole sex thing in general just doesn't interest me. I've been thinking about it ever since we came to Freeside, but I never really saw the appeal, felt the attraction."

Brianna raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden confession. "So- what? You're a virgin? Vow of chastity? Is it because of that religious thing?"

Sunny got to her feet. Grabbing her dress from the bed, she moved for the bathroom door. "It's more than that, and I'm not talking about it with you."

"Sunny, wait-"

The door burst open before she could continue and Veronica Santangelo skipped inside, Cass following shortly after.

"This is the _best_ day of my entire life!" The scribe gushed, twirling around in her new dress.

Brianna could see the reason for her delight. The dress was stunning, and the 1950s familiarity ended with the halter-neck bodice. The skirt was of a style she'd never seen before - at the right side, it reached down to her knee, at the other, the tight fabric hugged her thigh. The look was completed with a black ribbon tied around her waist. Veronica's features were noticeably enhanced by make-up; her eyes were enlarged by black liner and her skin was smoothed and perfected by a light layer of foundation and powder. Although her plain features promised that she would never be striking, Veronica did look beautiful, even as she almost tripped over her own stiletto-clad feet.

"Seriously!" She squealed. _"_The best! No exceptions! If you see a group of robe-wearing kids named Brianna in a few years or so, you'll know exactly where they came from!"

"Wonderful," Cass said. "Now take the damn hood off. If we're going through with this asinine casino crawl, you're at least gonna lose that ratty thing."

"I never asked for female-repellent hair," she pouted.

Cass didn't reply. Instead she swiped off Veronica's hood, revealing her hair to everyone in the room. In truth, it wasn't the prettiest haircut Brianna had ever seen. Veronica's hair was puffy and brown, styled like an ageing man's with a neat side-parting. It wasn't ugly enough to seriously detract from her appearance, but that didn't stop her from releasing a small cry of alarm.

"Great," she scolded, "now you've unleashed it upon the world."

"It ain't that bad," Cass insisted. "Lose the manly side-parting and you're good to go."

"Hey, don't even talk to me. You've been blessed with relatively good looks. I mean, I wouldn't sleep with you or anything, but that may be because I'd have a bullet lodged in my thorax before I could even make a move."

"I don't even know what a thorax is," she replied, moving into view.

Brianna was taken aback by how beautiful she looked. Or maybe 'beautiful' wasn't the right word. That would imply softness, something that was easy to look upon, something to be marvelled at. That wasn't Cass. Her red hair was worn in a loosely curled bun, one strand hanging down by her face on either side. She'd stolen some of Veronica's make-up, applying it to her eyes and lips. The dress she wore was a rich green with a low neckline. It was tight around her lean frame, cutting off just above her knees. She looked dangerously intimidating. She looked _hot._

"Tryin' to catch flies with that mouth?" Cass smirked. "Look, I'll leave you both to it."

"No need," Brianna said, glancing sideways at Sunny, who looked close to slipping in through the bathroom door. "Stay. We've got some questions to ask."

Sunny shook her head. "Don't, Brianna. Leave it."

"We're friends, right?" Veronica asked. "Okay, okay, we just met not too long ago, but here in the wasteland your travelling buddies are usually dead before you can tell each other your deepest, darkest secrets, so, you know."

"It's time you told us whatever it is you've been hiding," Brianna decided. "You said you would."

"We've got a lot of drinking to do tonight," Cass said. "Either we all eventually let our demons loose, or we end up too drunk to remember a thing you say. Besides, you already know I'm a dead-end old fuck-up who's tryin' not to be who she is." Cass glanced at Veronica. "You gonna help out here?"

"I didn't have it easy either," she said. "Go on, ask me if I've ever been in love."

"It's fine. I-" She took a deep breath. "You're right. I can't do this anymore." She undid the fastenings of her armour. "It's time I tell you everything."

Her armour fell in a leather heap at her feet.

Brianna's eyes widened in shock.

Inked across her arms and legs were tattoos. Glaringly out-of-place in the colourless room, they flowed in bright, intricate patterns along every limb. She'd seen tribal tattoos before, but none so colourful. They were slashes of vibrant hues across her arms and legs, like a rainbow was trying to escape her flesh. They were stunning. They were beautiful. But there was something very, very wrong.

"Something tells me you didn't work in a tattoo parlour," Veronica said.

"Where'd they come from?" Brianna asked. "What are you hiding, Sunny?"

"I-" She took a deep breath. "I'm a raider."

"Hold on- _what?"_

"Don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about. You wanted to know where I was before Goodsprings, remember? That's where. I was travelling with a band of raiders, just like the kind we killed outside Primm."

"Holy shit." Cass' voice was an uncertain mixture of anger and confusion.

"I didn't-" Sunny began, fumbling for words. "It wasn't my choice, they-"

"It wasn't your choice?!" Brianna thundered, unable to prevent the instinctive grab for her pistol. "People like you murdered my friends! Is that why you let yourself get captured in Primm? Did you look one of those sick fucks in the eye and _recognise_ him from one of your little hunting parties?! After all I told you, Sunny, after everything I said about dealing with slavers, losing friends, you _still _stuck around thinking I wouldn't kill you if I found out?!" She moved back from her, seething with anger. "What happened? Did you get hooked on chems _by accident, _or did you just need someone to look after you?"

"They killed my parents."

Her rage flickered, but she didn't back down. "What does that matter?"

"I was sixteen. We had a caravan. A small one, just one brahmin so we could sell whatever we could scavenge. They took us by surprise. I offered to protect them, to help them, in exchange for my parents' lives. So they held me at gunpoint, killed my only family, and took me with them." Her voice had gone from glass to steel. "I made them accept me, made them trust me, just so they wouldn't kill me. And I killed _so_ many people, caravans just like mine. Eventually the only way out was chems. They taught me how to make them and, sure, I started using them, because why the hell not? It's just like you said, Brianna. You've chased your killer all this way because you have nothing without the chase. I had nothing without an escape."

"Then how the hell did you wind up in Goodsprings with a cute little doggy and a name like Sunny Smiles?"

"We were getting close to Goodsprings, passing through Quarry Junction. My parents always told me to avoid the place like it was radioactive because of all the deathclaws. They trusted me to lead them because I knew where I was going, because I'd passed through long before the infestation. We'd spent years together already - they knew I wouldn't put up a fight. So I led them into the Deathclaw's nest, as close as I could get. I fired a few shots in the air and ran as fast as I could. Doc Mitchell took me in. A few people in the town helped him tie me up and ask me questions. When they found out I wasn't dangerous, they let me stay, helped me get better. I got clean, I defended the town, I grew out my hair and rescued Cheyenne. I let myself go back to the way I was. That's why I never told you. I thought you'd go crazy, I thought you'd kill me."

"Then why'd you tag along?"

"Because I'd seen your type before. I got used to the confident hero-types who went charging into raider dens with guns blazing. I think something must have clicked in my brain after I made that connection. I knew that I had to get out. I knew that after all those years of burying the past, I was still running from it. You seemed like the perfect opportunity to face what I'd done and forgive myself for it. And when we fought off those Powder Gangers, I realised we had more in common than I expected. We were both just trying to be good, be better. I knew that we could help each other do that. I knew you were my one-way ticket to the rest of the world."

"Tell me you're not listening to a damn thing she says," Cass whispered.

She pursed her lips, looking at Sunny. "Well, you were right. I've been a hitwoman, a mercenary, an interrogator. The only reason I'm here now is because I hope there's something more for me, some better way that I can do good, make a difference. Maybe I'm a little more honest about the bad things I've done, but what the hell does that matter?" She stepped closer to her, took Sunny by the hands. "We can leave that behind, can't we?"

She smiled. "I think we can."


	20. Ring-A-Ding-Ding

**VEGAS, BABY**

**JULY 23**

**11:30**

"I can't," Sunny cried. She stood firmly in the door frame of Vault 21, forcing and fighting the urge to step out onto the street. "I look ridiculous."

"Tell me about it," Veronica retorted, attempting to shove her out the door.

Sunny huffed out a sigh and looked to Brianna for help. She ignored her, focusing on adjusting her dress.

She'd picked the most simplistic one Michel Angelo had to offer and, unsurprisingly, the most low-cut. Made from ruffled black fabric, it did its job fairly well in covering her torso, but offered little concealment of anything else. The thing was made from a stretchy material, without any sleeves or neckline or anything else at all. There wasn't even a buckle or belt to hold the damn thing up, only a zip at the back to keep it tight. The dress hugged her body nicely, accentuating her curves and revealing a fair amount of cleavage. She'd borrowed from Veronica's dwindling make-up supply, outlining her eyes in black and painting her lips red. Her scar was covered slightly by a strategically placed wave of hair.

"We could go back if you want," Cass suggested. "You think Michel Angelo'll have a steel-plated dress so you can cage your tits in?"

Brianna smirked. "If we're heading to Gomorrah-"

"That'll do," she warned. "I don't wanna hear about your lesbian trysts in that scum-infested sin station. Not for all the whiskey in Reno."

"Don't worry your head about it," she teased, watching as Veronica attempted to console Sunny. "I always pretend it's you I'm fucking."

"I'd rather have Caesar fuck me right up the ass," she retorted, "just like he's doing to all the west." She glanced at Brianna, suddenly serious. "You'd better know what you're doing, alright? I'm fine with downing ten bottles of whiskey in every casino on the Strip, but not when there's some shithead out there who might kill us all while I'm at it."

"You said you'd go easy on the whiskey."

"Is that really the issue right now? Caravan code of the wastes says that you don't fuck with the one who brings you your mail, and you don't fuck with your supply line. This Benny guy doesn't follow that code, and that makes him dangerous as hell."

"He won't kill us straight up, that'll make him look bad. I don't know what he's planning, but I know he's a massive pretty boy who doesn't want people to see the blood on his hands. He shot a guy in Primm in the dead of night then left the place straight after. He's a snake, a fucking snake. We'll be in the casinos, right where everyone can see us. That's where we're safe."

"Not if he's close to one of the Families," Cass replied, hoisting her bag further up over her shoulder. Brianna knew that she would find a thousand caps inside, sorted out into individual purses of two hundred and fifty. She'd helped Cass wrap up her pistol in a pair of tights and a bra. A knife was stored in Veronica's make-up bag. "What if he's an Omerta? One of 'em could skin you alive while you're elbow-deep in a hooker. And rumour has it that those guys in the freaky masks, the White Gloves, eat human flesh. You might have enemies all around you. Hell, by the end of the night you might be fucking them."

"That package he stole from me was for Mr. House. Whatever that weasel's doing, he's doing it in private, on his own. When we meet, it'll be one-on-one."

Cass looked at her with an unreadable expression before turning towards Sunny. "Looks like our ray of sunshine's finally comin' out," she noted.

Brianna's lungs emptied.

Sunny's dress was designed with the fifties close in mind, with a halter neck ending in a small bow at the back, and something Michel Angelo had called a 'sweetheart neckline'. The dress was of a bright turquoise fabric, the floaty skirt falling just above her knee. She wore a pair of white stiletto heels and was obviously just getting the hang of how to walk in them. Her hair fell in loose waves, cascading over her shoulders. Her initial reluctance to step out into the open stemmed from the fact that every one of her tattoos were fully on display.

But, God, she was beautiful.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Sunny worried. "I can't do what you do. I can't pretend like none of that happened, like I never even told you about-"

"About what you were," Brianna interjected, wiping her palms on her thighs.

"Don't stress about it," Veronica assured, placing a hand on Sunny's shoulder. "We're a ragtag bunch of misfits now, right? One revenge-seeking courier, a cheery ex-raider, a reforming addict, and a hopeful Brotherhood scribe. Plus, you have one hand. You're gonna get discounts everywhere."

She huffed out a sigh. "Okay. Where do we start?"

Brianna's eyes moved upwards towards the glowing sign in the distance.

"We're starting at the top."

* * *

><p>The sound of music and laughter spilled out from The Tops casino. The place wasn't overly striking at first glance, consisting of a squat white building which extended into a towering hotel block. A wave of red and yellow lights flowed around the place, illuminating the entrance and the two armed guards stationed outside it. A man in a white pinstripe suit leaned against the building, smoking a cigarette. Sitting on the sidewalk was a boy no older than ten, surrounded by a number of various trinkets.<p>

Veronica made a noise of amusement. "Never thought the kid would make it here."

Sunny's puzzlement was clear in her expression. "Who?"

"The Forecaster," she replied. "He's a weird kid. Used to squat in the underpass back at the 188. And junk isn't all he sells."

"Doesn't look like an arms merchant to me," Cass observed. "What else does he sell?"

"Thoughts."

"Thoughts?"

"Something about that neat little hairband he's wearing," she explained, drawing Brianna's attention to the very thing she was describing. Around the boy's head was a tight metal band. "We had a chat once. Told me it was 'headache medicine'. He takes it off, and he seems to know these things about you. It's actually pretty interesting."

"So why's he here?" Brianna asked.

"He told the wrong person the wrong fortune, I guess. I didn't see it happen, but the guy who got freaked out must have scared the kid enough to make him leave."

"What did he tell him?"

"I don't know for sure. It's always cryptic, you know, like those voodoo women in scary stories. He told some passing stranger that-" She paused, looking at Brianna with a sudden spark of interest. "He said that black and white will turn to red and that six was his unlucky number."

She raised an eyebrow. "Think he was telling him not to bet on that number in blackjack?"

"Let's find out," she grinned. "Come on, I wanna know my fortune."

The Forecaster greeted them with a gentle smile as they made their way towards him. He wore a greying boyscout uniform and sat on a faded picnic blanket, surrounded by useless knick-knacks. As soon as he saw Brianna, he removed his headband and set it aside. "You want my thoughts, don't you?"

"Sure do," she agreed, sitting down next to him.

"I do a lot of thinking, miss. I can give you any of my thoughts for only fifty caps. I can think about here, or everywhere, or your friends, or you, or anything. If you want."

"Okay," she replied, playing along. She couldn't help the warm expression of childlike interest that crept along her softening features. Children could be snots, but sometimes they were fascinating. "How do you know so much about me, then? About everything, actually?"

"Because I listen. I think. It makes my brain hurt, so I have my medicine. But when it's off, I can tell you things."

"Well, I have the caps to spare." Cass tossed her bag down next to her. Brianna began to rummage inside, counting out fifty caps. She stacked them out in rows of ten, but the kid made no effort to take the money. The Forecaster was looking at her with deep intensity, giving her the sudden urge to cringe away from the stare, to turn around and leave before he could say anything more.

"Your face does the thinking. Flickers of emotion, fists clenched, bloody feet on familiar soil. Two to the head, but one gets up. The odds are against you, but they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You're playing the hand you've been dealt, but you don't let it rest. You shuffle and stack - and a gamble. A gamble that might pay off. Explosions in your eyes, a hand you can't reach, a story buried in the rubble. Thoughts race around and around your head like a carousel you can't get off. I see the bull and the bear at each others throats, a dam of corpses. I see fire, a heart ripped open, I see tremors in the earth. I see an ending to things."

"Alright, kid," Brianna said, her voice wavering. "What does that mean?"

"Forecast: strong winds and rainstorms, with a chance of sunlight soon." He looked at her companions, eyes filling with tears. "There's a storm coming."

* * *

><p>"Oh, man, this is ring-a-ding!"<p>

The greeter clapped his hands together and moved over to meet the now-shaken newcomers. "I don't know just what I'm seeing here, but I know that you ladies were not made for the lowly man's eyes. Yet here you are to grace The Tops with your presence, shining brighter than any sign on the New Vegas Strip. And for that, I have to thank you!" He shook their hands with enthusiastic gusto, flashing them a beaming white smile. "Now, what are you killer cats here for? Delicious food, wonderful shows, or the chance to win your fortune? Because here at The Tops, you can do all of that and more."

"And more?" Brianna asked with a smirk, edging closer to him and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "Like what?"

"Anything you've ever dreamed of, baby."

"Time to go," Cass decided, taking Brianna by the arm and yanking her aside. "He's a Chairman," she hissed in her ear. "And at this stage, fucking a chairman could end with you dead in a ditch, remember?"

"Jesus, Cass," she grumbled, but quickly let it go as they continued to the casino floor. The place was alive with cheering and chatter as gamblers hunched over games of blackjack and poker. Women wore pastel-coloured dresses and feathered hats while men sported pinstripe suits of every shade. A short staircase would lead them to the games, with booths similar to the ones back in Goodsprings set out against the walls on the higher floor. Two glittering chandeliers hung from the high ceiling.

Veronica let out a low whistle. "Not bad."

"Guy who shot you," Cass breathed. "Chequered suit, right?"

"Yeah, w-?"

And then she saw him.

Right across the gambling hall, back turned.

Gelled hair.

Chequered suit.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, I can't do this, Cass," she stammered, growing more frantic with every word. "It's not the right time and I don't know- I can't, I-"

_That's the spirit, pussycat._

But she was walking. She was leaving the group behind her and moving slowly down the steps.

_Facing your death with some courage, I like that._

"Brianna you don't have to do this, you can turn back right now, you can-"

_Now, I know this must seem like an eighteen-karat run of bad luck for you, princess._

She didn't listen. She blocked out the voices didn't turn back, because if she stopped moving, she would stop for good.

_But get this._

She was right behind him, close enough to smell the lightest traces of cologne and cigarette ash. She almost gagged at the scent.

_The game was rigged from the start._

"Baby, you ran away so fast that I never even got your name."

Every muscle in Benny's body froze. She could almost feel his heart stopping as she ascended the steps towards him and leaned against the railing. She could see his face as he turned towards her. Tan skin paling with fright. Brown eyes, clefted chin, gelled hair. She could see the veins in his hands. The faintest scars on his knuckles. The creases on his chequered suit, just at the crook of his elbow.

_He's a person._

He wasn't the serpentine monster she'd constructed in her head.

_He's a person._

"H- how-?" Benny managed, the words sticking in his throat.

"How did I get here so fast?" She smiled, with the slightest twitch of her body. "Why, I ran as quickly as I could."

"No. No, that-" He shook himself in an attempt to regain his composure. His eyes flickered from Brianna to the room around him. It was only then that she noticed the guards standing by, armed men in grey suits and sunglasses. They kept their distance, but it looked like they belonged to him. She swallowed a lump in her throat, forcing herself to maintain her composure as he continued, "Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like smooth little babies."

"You think I wanna hurt you, baby?" She asked, the pout of her lips telling liquor-tasting lies while the fire in her eyes told him _run._

"No, no. You wanna get clued in, right? Maybe we could go somewhere a little more-"

"Private?" She asked. "You sure? 'Cause I'd do some real naughty things to you in private."

_"I'd skin you alive," _was what she didn't say.

"That bullet scramble your skull or something?" He asked with a forced chuckle. She could see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

"That bullet left a mark on me," she replied, pushing away a lock of hair to fully reveal her scar. "You left a mark on me. Doesn't that mean I'm all yours?"

_"Reach for that gun and I tell the whole world what you did."_

"You are one sick pussycat, baby."

"Just lovesick for the bad, bad boy I dig."

_"Doesn't that word remind you of a shovel scraping against the dirt? How does that make you feel? How do I make you feel? Are you afraid, pussycat?"_

"This ain't forgiveness, baby, no way. This is something wrong."

"I'm all kinds of wrong."

_"And I'll set fire to everything you love."_

"How about we, uh, head up to my suite, yeah? Let's keep it real quiet 'til we're up on the thirteenth floor. I'll answer any questions you got."

She smiled and took his hand. The entire journey was a blur, from chasing him up the staircase with her vision swimming, to almost falling into his room high up on the thirteenth floor. The room was adorned with plush couches and televisions that hadn't worked in years. There were framed pictures and shiny ornaments, nothing but colourful shapes in her vision as she took her killer by the tie and pulled him into his bedroom suite, shutting the door behind them.

"I'll admit, pussycat, you sure got the drop on me. But before we start, how about you tell me how the hell you're still alive."

"Let's call it luck and leave it at that, Benny. There are more important things to talk about."

"Luck's for losers, baby. Someone pulled strings."

"You cut my goddamn strings when you shot me in the head - who the hell would try to dig me out of that grave and why?"

"I get it, pussycat, nothing's more tragic than a pawn who knows she's a pawn, but somethin' went down that night, somethin' other than you."

"Fine, fine. Let's say someone _did _pull strings. Why?" She moved closer to him. "What does the Platinum Chip do and why did I have to die for it?"

"It's the New Vegas edge, baby. It's the key to stacking the odds in House's favour. Or it was, until I swiped it."

"There's more to it than that."

"You're exactly right, but we don't have the time. By which I mean you don't."

The pistol was trained on her before she could move.

_Wrists bound and burning. Head pounding. The moon looming over the hilltop. A glint of something silver and the barrel of a gun. _

"Now," Benny sighed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Her eyes widened. She backed up against the dresser. Her hands reached frantically behind her, searching for something, _something _that would save her.

Searching for a miracle.

"I thought you'd be smarter than all this. Trekking all that way across the desert just to choke when the curtains open? Ouch."

"Let me go," she begged. "Please, please."

"You know, I don't think I could shoot you in the head again, not when you're looking so pretty. Maybe I could organise a little job for you? A career opportunity, if you will."

"I'm not doing anything for you."

"Well, it wouldn't be for me," he chuckled. "Maybe once or twice, sure. But I'm thinkin' bigger here, pussycat. I could sell you to all of New Vegas. You'd be a star act in Gomorrah, the way those hips of yours sway. Packin' you off to the whorehouse would save me the trouble of hiding your corpse away, troubling the cleaning ladies, wasting a nice silver bullet. And it would sure do wonders for my reputation."

"Just let me go!" She wailed, knees buckling beneath her. But he didn't, and his aim didn't waver, that gun didn't shift and wasn't this how it had always been? She'd never escaped that gun, that smirk, that chequered suit that patterned her nightmares. This was all she'd ever had, ever since she woke up in Goodsprings, this moment had plagued her from daybreak to dusk. But every time she pictured this, the gun went off and woke her from the nightmare. He always killed her, every time, and that was a thought she could stand. But not this. Never this. She wasn't ready for this.

"I'll leave! I swear to God, I'll leave my friends, I'll go far away! Just let me go! Please! I'll- I'll do anything."

"And what does 'anything' mean to you, pussycat?"

"What does it mean to you?"

"I think you could show me The Tops, baby," Benny smirked. "Give ol' Benny a ride, then maybe we'll talk about what 'anything' means. A little hey-hey's gotta be better than being put down like an animal for the second time in your life. Don't let anyone tell you that I'm not good to my girls."

She stepped away from the dresser. Walked slowly towards the man who'd tried to kill her. She tugged down her dress, cringing as she felt the fabric slide down along her frame, felt Benny's eyes burning through her. Burning through her chest. Her hips. Her thighs. With every slow tug of the dress, Brianna O'Reilly was burned alive. She danced in the flames, reaching up her back with shaking fingers and slowly, achingly slowly, undoing the strap of her bra.

Benny shoved the pistol into its holster. Ate her up with every lick of his lips. "With Charlies like that, baby, it's hard to notice the scar."

"You don't like the scar?" She asked. Every quiver of her voice, every tremor of her fingers, was the sly movement of a pawn across a chequered board.

"Just an obstacle," he muttered, moving towards her and running a wanting hand along her arm.

"Just a mark," she breathed.

"My mark," he agreed. "Now tell me, pussycat. What are you?"

"Whoever you want me to be."

_I'm your worst nightmare._

"And what happens when you grab for this gun?"

"Whatever you want."

"Exactly. You won't touch it, because if you do, I'll put a bullet through that lovely head of yours. None of us want that."

Courier Six was afraid.

"If you touch it, I'll smack you to the ground and do whatever I want to you."

Courier Six was terrified.

"But you won't do that anyway, will you, pussycat?"

She wouldn't.

"Because you know this is your only option. This is your part in this scene. Now, what are you gonna do?"

"Anything you want."

"Why?"

"So you don't put a bullet through that lovely head of mine."

He smiled. "See? It's that simple. You sure learn fast, sweetheart."

_I sure do._

She reached for his suit and moved a pawn. She licked her lips with growing need, undoing the buttons and watching as her killer shrugged off his chequered suit. She took it in her hands and moved a slid one arm up the sleeve and slid a rook across the board. She wrapped it around her and waited for his move. She stepped back, brushing away a strand of hair. The jacket smelled like him, felt like him. She moved a pawn and reached for him. He looked down at the board with widening eyes. She slid her hands down his thighs, stomach fluttering with excitement.

"That's it, baby. Right there."

She took his knight.

He sat down on the bed, pulling her on top of him and running a hand down her back.

He took a pawn.

Her lips met his.

He took a pawn.

She moaned into his mouth, running her fingers through his hair.

He took a pawn.

She reached down, unzipping his trousers with one hand.

She moved a bishop.

He barely stifled the noise in his throat as she bit down on his lip.

Check.

She was straddling him, pinning him down by the arms and leaving him wanting.

He moved his king.

"Baby, ah... Don't tease the Ben-man, alright?"

She placed a gentle finger over his lips, shushing him. Feeling him pressing against her. Feeling him helpless. Feeling him weak.

She moved her queen into position.

And grabbed the gun from its holster.

_Checkmate._

He was on her instantly, throwing her back and clamping a hand around her hair. He yanked out a fistful as she shoved him back against the bed, pressing the gun against his temple while he spat curses and tried to fight her off. _Tramp, bitch, whore. _She held it against his jaw, pinning him down with her weight. _Slut, fink, crazy fucking broad. _She lowered it even further, tracing it along his shirt and stopping right between his legs.

"I think it's time we had a little talk," she hissed, covering his mouth with one hand. "Try to scream, beg, run away, kill me, and you can kiss Little Benny goodbye."

She got to her feet. "Get up."

"Dammit!" Benny spat, but did as he was told. His bulge was still pressing tightly against his zipper and his forehead was shiny with sweat.

"You know, I was wrong about you. You aren't a monster after all. You're just a pompous Vegas prick with pathetically low cunning. You think with your dick, Benny, and it's very fucking disappointing."

"Hard not to when you're grinding on me with nothing but a jacket and a pair of lace panties on, pussycat.

"Don't call me that. Get on your knees."

"Now, baby-"

"You put me on my knees when you shot me, remember that?"

"Baby, you know that was just-"

"Get down on the floor, you slimy fuck."

"We don't have to d-"

_"Get on your fucking knees!"_

He complied. "I know you don't wanna kill me. You jus-"

"Shut up."

"Now, now, I let you talk, remember? Seems only fair."

"Was shooting me in the head fair?"

"You know business ain't fair, baby. But listen, I know exactly what you want. It's written all over your face whether you like it or not, pussycat. You want to be a big part of this, don't you? You're expecting some kinda grand scheme with you playing right in the centre, isn't that it? Maybe you're in it for the fame, or the caps, or whatever else Vegas has waiting for you. You think you're the underdog, the Joker of the pack, the queen on the chessboard. You ever played chess?"

"Don't."

"You know how it works, right? You got your kings, your queens, your rooks, your knights, and your bishops. Each one of 'em's important if you wanna capture the king. But we're missing something, aren't we darlin'? We're missing the pawns. The disposable pieces. You won't curse and swipe the board off the table if you lose one of those. See, there are so many others that you lose track."

"Alright, you like metaphors, fantastic. But I guess I know a little more than you about how the game is played. Because when the pawn moves to end of the board, you know what happens, don't you? It's a little something called 'promotion'. So, I'm a pawn and I've reached the other side, that means I get to take a step up. I can be a rook, a bishop-"

"Pussycat-

"But I think I'll be a queen."

"Okay, okay, enough with the chess metaph-"

"Ready to answer my questions, then? What does the Chip do?"

"Well you and I both know it's not for betting on in blackjack. It's not even a chip at all. It's some kinda data storage device, dig? So it's the data on the Chip that's platinum, not the platinum itself. Trouble is, the Chip don't fit in any computer I know of. Must require special hardware. I've been looking into it."

"And what does it do?"

"It's the key to New Vegas," he smiled.

"Cut the bullshit, Benny. What does it do?"

"Alright, alright. Picture a giant wave of soldiers coming in at you from everywhere you look. Might be waving a bull flag, maybe a bear. Now picture an army of smaller size, made of metal that's practically indestructible. On one arm they've got a minigun with a ammo supply that might as well be endless. On the other hand, a missile launcher. And imagine yourself standing among them, every last one of 'em at your beck and call."

"They give you control of the Securitrons."

"Not quite. Upgrades their hitting power, I think. Gives them the heft."

"Why upgrade them if you have no power?"

He flashed a white grin. "Magician never reveals his secrets."

"You aren't a magician. You're just a beaten guy with a boner and an ugly suit. Talk."

"Why would I do that when you're gonna let me go?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. Her body swelled with hatred, burning hatred for this man who had tried to murder her. Maybe it had just been business, maybe she'd just been the means to an end, the ugly mess that needed making, maybe she'd always been collateral damage. But that had all ended after she'd taken her first steps across Doc Mitchell's office. Her lips curled into a snarl, features contorting with disgust at this smug little man who thought he had it all.

"Or maybe not," he realised.

"I've been called a lot of things, Benny. A murderer, a fiend, a whore." She spat out every word like they were the most disgusting curses she could imagine. "And maybe I'm all of those things. But I'm fair too. Your Khan friends, remember them? I found the woman who gave you the gun, and I let her go. I found the man who barely covered up my dying body with dirt, and I beat the fighting out of him with the same shovel he used on me. So what would I be if I didn't blow your brains out right here, right now?"

"Merciful?"

She laughed. "Mercy? You want mercy? I am a chaotic, hell-raising, merciless vigilante who'd do anything to see the world rid of scumbags like you. You're begging _mercy _from the woman who's been tied to a post and drenched in gasoline, and still pleaded for compassion from the people with the matches. You want _mercy _from someone who watched her best friend die for that reason, because she found something good in men like you who swagger through your empires and think the world is yours. You want _mercy _from someone who used to hunt down raiders and keep their fingers as trophies. You want _mercy _from someone who built cities on her back, watched communities grow from the packages she carried? God, you- you want mercy from me?"

She aimed the pistol between his eyes. And slightly to the left.

"Oh, pussycat. You picked the wrong courier to kill."


	21. What A Lady, What A Night

**THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR**

**JULY 24**

**00:05**

The bullet tore through the wallpaper behind him, the shot ringing in the dead air. It took a long moment before the kneeling man realised that he could still smell the light traces of perfume in the air, feel the carpet brush against his fingertips. He opened his eyes once again to see Courier Six standing above him. Her face was grim and fire was burning in her eyes. Icicles hung from every word she spoke and she looked at him like he was something she'd scraped off her shoe. A strange sensation, he contemplated, to be looked down on like that. By a woman like her.

"Pussycat-"

"You don't get to call me that," she threatened. "You don't get to call me a goddamn thing, but if you're gonna insist, then call me by my name. _Brianna O'Reilly _is the woman who stole everything from you. Keep that name in your head for as long as you live, you shit-spewing, cowardly, egotistical, greedy, heartless piece of shit. Because that isn't gonna be an awful lot of time, I promise you."

Benny swallowed a lump in his throat. Her anger was seeping into the walls, into his veins. It was as if the world itself was pulsing with her rage.

"Where's the Chip?"

"Baby, you don't have to-"

She fired another shot into the wall. "Brianna, you fuck. My name is Brianna. Where's the Platinum Chip?"

He gulped down a breath. This crazy broad sure was something else, but damned if she wasn't unpredictable. Hell, he'd almost been happy that she was alive and looking so damn beautiful, but nothing had prepared him for this. She was more than just a femme fatale, she was _driven. _But she had no idea what she was doing, that much was clear. She hadn't prepared for this, hadn't thought everything through. _She wants more than what Mr. Vegas can offer her. _Otherwise, why go to such lengths? Why go traipsing across the desert just to bring a stick back to her master? This puppy was looking for a lot more than a pat on the head, and that was his only advantage, kneeling here with his hands behind his back. She had no idea how the damn thing even worked, and so long as she didn't snoop around, she never would. Maybe that would sway her. Maybe he could live.

He hoped so.

"You've got the Chip, baby, right there in your pocket."

She felt for it with one hand, aim unwavering. It was there.

"Last chance for a good time, pussycat," Benny offered. "It doesn't have to go down like this."

"Doesn't it?"

"Baby, I never wanted to kill you."

"Then it's lucky you're such a terrible shot."

"That bullet hit you exactly where I planned."

"Bullshit."

"Sounds that way, I know, but I hoped you'd at least look pretty if someone ever found you. Maybe you just had brains to spare. If you do, then maybe we could help each other out. You know what the Chip does, sure, but do you have any idea what it all means? I've seen your face 'round here before - I know exactly what you were doing in this place before that package ever made its way to your hands. You were never in any position to get filled in on everything that's been bubbling up around here, you don't got a clue. You've never had to think about what the House-man's leadership means, you've never had to wonder what would happen if that casino went bust. You let me walk out of this room, and I'll make sure you're all clued in. Hell, maybe we could work together."

"You think it'll be that easy for you? You think I'm gonna let you walk away after all you've done?"

"Putting a window in my skull isn't gonna make your power struggle any easier, pussycat."

"Call me that one more time and this conversation's over."

"Look, _Brianna, _I'm trying to save my skin here, but this little back-and-forth could end up being a whole lot more than that. You're not some kind of white knight vigilante, you're not pointing a gun at my head for the greater good. You want a little control, that's what this is all about. You've been the scum of the social barrel in this place, you've been the messenger for far too long, and you want something more. That's what I'm offering here. I know what you're capable of, I saw the way you played me downstairs. I know you can put on a smile and act as my darling trophy girl while you pull the strings from behind the scenes. You and me, we could make this place our empire. Can't you see it? We could fight off the Bull and the Bear hand-in-hand, because word on the street is that House is cooking up an army that our Platinum Baby can control. We can knock Mr. House to the dirt and start making something more of this place, isn't that what you want? The fact that you're alive means House is already onto us, but I'm not done rigging the odds yet. Money, power, glory, I'm giving it to you on a silver platter. A _platinum _platter."

"So that's been your game all this time. You've been clever, I'll give you that. Everybody wants to rule the world, Benny, but you actually got close. The schemes, the murder, your own little private puppet show, it's all been very impressive. I can't say I ever wanted to take control of this cesspool, but I've always wanted to make a difference. House kept this country alive, but he hasn't done a goddamn thing for us ever since. The Legion are slaving scumbags and the NCR are a dying breed, and you just gave me the power to make every one of them disappear. Or I could give the Platinum Chip to House, earn my reward, earn his favour. Or I could give it to the NCR and help them win the war. Or maybe I could give it to Caesar's Legion, just to watch the world burn, because maybe I want that." She laughed. "God, look at you. You're still staring at me like a lovestruck little puppy, but you still have no idea just how badly you fucked up, Benny. All those plans, all that time, all that blood and you can't even see your own downfall when it's staring at you in the face."

"And here I thought I was doing a pretty good job."

She took a step closer to him. Pushed back her hair. "Just one fatal mistake."

"What's that, baby?"

She smiled. "You put all that power in my hands, and you still think I need you."

Her finger jerked on the trigger. The left side of Benny's head was torn apart in a spray of crimson. His body jerked violently before his head slumped back against the wall, his corpse lying in a twisted heap as blood and brain matter oozed out from his head. The carpet darkened with the growing pool of blood and the colour was already draining from his flesh. The smirk on Benny's face was gone and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, green and gaping and gone.

* * *

><p><em>It's gotta be here.<em>

Brianna didn't know what she was looking for. A terminal, a key, a note. Anything. She knew that Benny _Benny, Benny, Benny, Benny, Benny _had found a way of controlling the Strip's Securitrons. Maybe he hadn't completely figured it out yet, maybe he hadn't found the software that would activate the Chip. Maybe the thing, wherever it was, wouldn't be of any use to her when she found it. What did she need Securitrons for anyway? All that talk about taking over New Vegas, what had it all been worth? It was nothing. It was empty. It was a bluff. It didn't matter. Her mind was reeling, whirring as it processed this new information.

_Securitrons, Chip, House, pawns, queens, platinum, goals, bullets, Benny._

_Benny, Benny, Benny, Benny, Benny._

The place was eerily still without his presence. That lifeless body on the floor, covered by the red duvet from his bed, that wasn't Benny. That was the grotesquery she had turned him into. Only five things remained from him, five parts of him that she would keep. His jacket, neatly folded on the floor now that she had her dress to cover herself with. His pistol, placed carefully on top. The lighter and the bullet casing that she'd kept with her from the start. And the Platinum Chip, set right beside the other shining objects. An unintentional memorial to the man she'd killed.

But that didn't take away the faintest smell of cologne. Or the pillows on his bed, and how they'd been turned in that certain way, how they'd been punched and fluffed for his comfort. It didn't erase that slightly open drawer or the neatly folded clothes inside or the ornaments on the table in the next room that he'd lived in and breathed in.

So she tore the place apart.

The rage shot through her like a concentrated dose of Psycho. Her lungs ached in protest as she screamed out her anger and ran her shaking fingers through her hair. Her stomach churned as she swiped books off shelves and ripped their pages apart, tossing the remains around the carpeted floor. She slammed into to the next room, smashing ornaments against walls and tearing cushions wide open. She pulled apart the couches, hurled a pitcher at the busted television and sent it shattering with a noise that made her body quake with ecstasy. She would destroy every trace of Benny's presence here. She would light the place on fire just to get rid of his smell. She would claw out her own eyes just to forget his face.

She'd lost everything.

She couldn't use the Platinum Chip - she didn't know how. She couldn't go behind House's back - he knew she was alive, he would know she'd killed Benny, that she had the Platinum Chip that had never really been hers. She had her answers now, but what were they worth? Even revenge, even the barest thing she had to cling to, it wasn't enough, she hadn't done enough. She longed to hear him scream and cry and curse, to reduce him to the desperate, pleading stranger he had once made of her. She needed to hear him wail his apologies and beg for mercy, just so she could smile as she stole everything away. She hadn't allowed him those seconds, those endless and finite seconds before the gunshot sounded. She wished she had. God, how she wished she had. Because Benny had been just that before she'd killed him. He'd been Benny. He hadn't changed like she had. He hadn't died like she had. She'd told herself that there was nothing left for her, that she was ready to be forgotten by history. She hadn't given him those seconds, even though that triumph was all that was left to savour.

And it was too late.

There was no terminal. There was no key. The only man who knew where to find it was gone, and she thought she'd won? She cursed and cursed again, slamming a fist against the wall. Benny was dead but still she'd lost. She had the Chip but still she'd lost. All because she'd been thoughtless, too caught up in her own revenge, too absorbed by the illusion of power to _think _for one damn moment. She could turn in the Chip to House, earn the payment she didn't need and what did she have after that? She had nothing but the wasteland, nothing but the wandering, and no one left to join her. Her companions were right, they'd been right all along - she was a pawn. And the worst thing was, she'd known it all along.

The sensation was too much. She'd been taken, she'd been defeated, she'd been cast off the board to watch the battle unfold without her. Icy tendrils wrapped around her heart, piercing her lungs, stealing her breath. She had the Platinum Chip and it was worthless, it was _worthless _in her hands, just like it had always been. Her stomach heaved. She ran to Benny's en suite to vomit up the little she'd had to eat, as if emptying herself even further would make the agony go away. She gripped the handle with shaking hands and threw the door open.

Froze.

The bathroom had been torn apart. A gaping hole had been ripped through the wall, providing entrance to whatever room lay beyond. And there _w__as_ another room, she found, stepping through the en suite and through the waiting gap, feeling as drunk and dizzy as a girl spinning down a rabbit hole. Her heels clicked against cold stone. It was a workshop. The air was stale and dotted with dust. Busted terminals lay about the various desks and tables. A workbench was pressed against one wall. And a smiling Securitron was moving towards her.

"Hey! Hi there! Good to meet you! What can I do for _you _today? Wait, allow me to introduce myself! I am a PDQ-88b Securitron, but you can call me Yes Man!"

"What the fuck? What are you?"

"I am a PDQ-88b Securitron, but you can call me Yes Man!"

"Yeah, I got that part. I'm gonna need a little more."

"Of course! As I understand it, I used to be just like all those other Securitrons on the Strip! Then my neuro-computational matrix was completely reprogrammed! To be nice! To be very, very nice!"

"Okay. And what is this place?"

"Great question! This is Benny's workshop! When The Tops got renovated, he had this part of the floor blocked off for his own use! I guess you could say it's my entire world!"

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I wasn't programmed with the ability to refuse! I was designed with helpfulness and kindness in mind! I guess nobody bothered to restrict who I answer questions for! Pretty silly, huh?"

"This is ridiculous. This is impossible. What was Benny doing with you?"

"Oh! He wants me to kill Mr. House and use the Platinum Chip to copy my neuro-computational matrix onto the Lucky 38's mainframe. Good idea, right? That should give me control over all of Mr. House's Securitrons, as well as his other defences. And then I just do what Benny tells me to! Easy-peasy!"

_Holy shit._

She looked about the room, glancing behind her as paranoia stirred in her stomach. This was dangerous. She was half-expecting footsteps in the hall, almost waiting for Benny's bodyguards to come thundering up the steps in search of her. Her heart was climbing up her throat. She'd only been a spectator in this game so far, and still learning how to play. If she pursued this, if she let this robot answer the questions that had died with the Chairman she'd killed, would that make her a player? How many moves could she make before she became a piece on the board of New Vegas?

"Yes Man, what happens if I give the Platinum Chip to House?"

"No idea! Benny was trying to figure that out, but I don't know where he went to! Sorry!"

"Alright. And what if I wanted the Securitrons to myself?"

"Then I would have to help you! I mean, it seems pretty obvious that Benny wouldn't want me to, but it's not my fault I can't say no!"

"You don't have to worry about Benny anymore. What would I have to if I wanted to run Vegas myself?"

She didn't. Not really. The idea of a vague and ominous ruler holed up in the Lucky 38 Casino was enough to make anyone uneasy, but House had kept himself alive for centuries now with whatever technology he was hiding up there with him. The man was a genius - some would say he'd even saved the human race by protecting Las Vegas from the nuclear fallout. She wasn't the only person who would kill for a conversation with him, to find out what his motives were and if he planned to intervene with the brewing civil war. Mr. House had been silent for a long time - up until the request for six couriers to carry mysterious packages. But just because he was an immortal shut-in didn't mean she wanted to wrench his power away and destroy everything he'd built. Besides, she didn't have the military knowledge, the leadership skill, the agreeable morals.

But it wasn't every day you got an opportunity like this. She would hear the robot out, if nothing else.

"Well, first you'd have to ask the folks around if they'd like you being in charge! There are lots of people around here to meet. Benny told me all about the Great Khans, the Boomers, the White Glove Society, and tons more people who would be great buddies in a fight! And if you don't like one of those groups, we can just eradicate them! Wait, did I just say 'eradicate'? That's not a very nice word."

"Uh, how about I get back to you on that?"

"Sure thing!"

* * *

><p>She entered the Tops gambling hall with her head held high, a smirk playing on her lips. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor and the confident movement of her hips drew every eye in the casino. She was wearing Benny's jacket, no longer choking on the smell of him. She revelled in it. These were the black and white squares that had flashed across her dreams every night since she'd been shot. The gun at her hip had sparkled silver in the moonlight above Graveyard Hill, the last thing she thought she'd ever see. She'd been killed for the Platinum Chip in her front pocket, yet she wore the suit as she wore her scar.<p>

With pride.

She could see Sunny standing at the other side of the hall, talking with the greeter from earlier.

"You think I'd believe that?" She heard him ask as she moved closer. "Benny's a stand-up guy! He only goes chasing broads when he's lookin' to swing with 'em! What would he want with some walk-the-wasteland tease?"

"You mean me?"

"Oh, uh-" He cleared his throat. "I was just looking for Benny."

"Oh, sure. He's up in his suite," she smiled. In her peripheral vision she could see one of the guards from earlier moving towards them. At least four others were slowly moving in on them.

"Right, right." The greeter had his pistol aimed between her eyes before Brianna could react. "Now are we gonna find him naked in bed with a smile on his face, or face-down on the floor with blood pouring out of his head?"

"How about you go find out?"

She laughed as the guard behind her grabbed her arms and yanked them behind her back.

"You fink! Benny was all about smooth moves out here, but I'll have no problem putting a window through your skull if you don't tell me what your game is, dig?"

"Was putting a bullet in my brain and burying me in a shallow grave a smooth move? Because that's exactly what he did to me, _dig?"_

His aim wavered slightly. "Benny shot you?"

"I don't think I need to point out the scar."

"Better make her prove it, Swank," the man behind her advised.

"Yeah," Swank agreed. "Go on. You have any evidence? 'Cause otherwise I won't believe a thing you say. Don't get me wrong, Benny was a shifty kind of cat, but not the killer kind."

"How about you reach into my pocket and find your proof?" She replied. The guard behind her did as he was told, producing the lighter and bullet casing from her pocket. He walked towards the greeter and presented the items he'd gathered.

Swank's face fell. "That's his lighter, no mistake," he confirmed. "And the bullet casing, I recognise it. Benny, that fink, always boasting about how rare the make was. Dammit! Let the ladies go."

They did.

Swank released a long sigh. "Benny was my pal. I was his right-hand man!"

"And now you're just a man," a voice interjected, as Rose of Sharon Cassidy stepped in, followed by Veronica. "If I were you, I'd be crying too."

Swank quickly took a step away from her, glancing at Brianna sheepishly. "I guess I can't say anymore. I'll leave you be- just don't go frightening any of my guests." As he retreated to the entrance Brianna heard him saying, _"My_ guests. _My _casino. This is Swank's place now. Hell yeah!"

Sunny brushed herself down, her features hardening into seriousness. "What happened?" She asked. "Did you get your answers?"

"Sure did."

"Oooh!" Veronica piped. "What did he say?"

"Yeah," Cass said, narrowing her eyes. "What did that snake really try to kill you over?"

"Doesn't matter. Not now."

"Why?" Sunny asked. "What are you planning?"

"A night in Vegas," the courier grinned. "As promised."

* * *

><p><em>"Snoozefest!" <em>Cass declared, knocking back another shot of whiskey.

"I'm gonna snore my pants off," Veronica complained..

Brianna eyed the room around them with distaste. Most of the chairs were empty aside from a few silent drinkers, and the stage was deserted after the worst singer she'd ever heard was called off. She took a long slug of beer before setting the bottle down and looking to her companions. "Come on," she encouraged, jumping to her feet and taking Sunny by the wrist, yanking her up too.

"What?" Cass grumbled, as Brianna pulled her off the chair.

"We're gonna sing!" Veronica realised.

"We're gonna sing!" Brianna confirmed, racing up to the empty stage. Two men behind her exchanged glances, hesitating for a moment before changing the track and allowing them to carry on. Neither realised that ten minutes later the place would be brimming with laughing gamblers, and business would be booming like it never had before. Not in years.

_"My head keeps- spinnin'!_

_"Can't go to sleep I keep- grinnin'!_

_"If this is just the be - ginnin'!_

"_My life is gonna be..._

_"BEE-YOO-TI-FUL!"_

* * *

><p>"I think you lovely ladies have had enough, dig?"<p>

_"I've sunshine enough to spread!" _Cass sang in protest as she was ushered out by a guard.

_"It's like the... the feller said!" _Veronica added.

_"Tell me quick!" _Brianna belted. _"Ain't that a kick... in the heeeeeeead!"_

* * *

><p>"You said your name, was, uh," Sunny giggled. "Bree?"<p>

"Bree-Anna," Brianna corrected.

"Breeee... Annaaaa..." Sunny laughed. "And we're in... We're in _Gomorraaaaah."_

Brianna smiled, leaning back against the satin sheets. She recognised the place just... just vaguely... A Gomorrah sex room. She knew that because a naked woman was wriggling on Veronica's lap, and Cass was pouring a bottle of whiskey into the open mouth of a muscular guy wearing nothing but leather straps around his chest. Brianna stayed on the floor with Sunny, her legs entangled in cushions and velvet and other lovely, lovely things. Like Sunny's legs and Sunny's arms.

"You said-" Brianna began. "You said you didn't like sex."

"Well, I don't."

"Not even now?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay."

She kissed her again. "You're the best thing ever," she mumbled, not entirely certain of what she was saying, but sure that it was the right thing to tell her. She was drunk anyway, wasn't she? And now Sunny was here and hers, who cared about words when she could kiss her again?

So she kissed her again. And again and again for a long time after that.


	22. The House Always Wins

**GOMORRAH **

**JULY 25**

**07:02**

_"Oh, my hands are shaky and my knees are weak,_

_I can't seem to stand on my own two feet!_

_Who do you thank when you have such luck?_

_I'm in love! I'm all shook up!_

_Uh-huh-huh!"_

Brianna's eyes fluttered open as the tune began to register in her dream-clouded mind. She felt the pain before anything else, more than just the familiar pounding against her temples. It was fire, each word tearing through her skull and forcing her head to drum out a beat. The next thing she detected was the weight pressing against her chest, the long tresses of hair tickling her bare arms. She breathed a curse, knowing exactly what she would see when she looked down.

Sunny Smiles was curled up in a tight ball, her head resting on Brianna's chest and her loose blonde waves spilling out in all directions. But she wasn't hit with that much-expected pang in her chest. There was only warmth from the sight, spreading out in warm red pools on each cheek and splashing in her chest.

_"Please don't ask me what's on my mind,_

_I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine!_

_When I'm near that girl that I love best,_

_My heart beats so fast it scares me to death!_

_Uh-huh-huh!"_

With a groan of pain, she straightened herself up. She was careful to slowly shift away from the sleeping woman, allowing Sunny's head to fall gently down onto the nearest cushion. She wasn't prepared for the man above her, dressed in a gleaming white suit and strutting in circles around them as he sang. His thoroughly gelled hair shone in the dim half-light. His teeth flashed white as he gave her a wide smile.

"Elvis?" She mumbled, blinking in stunned surprise. "Is that you?"

Sunny stirred. With a grumble of confusion, she propped herself up on one elbow and took a moment to get her bearings. "What?" She croaked, voice thick from sleep. She glanced up at Brianna, vague recognition flickering in her heavy eyes. "Brianna?" She turned her head towards the man above them, eyes widening in astonishment. _"Elvis?"_

"Not Elvis, little lady," the stranger assured. "Cupid! Sent down five hundred miles from Heaven by blessed Jesus to tie you both together in sweet, holy matrimony. And I got a feelin' in my body that you two lovers are gonna be together today, tomorrow, forever. C'mon! Don'cha think it's time we got started with the vows?"

"Oh, right. We're getting married."

"Right indeed, little ladies! And who better to marry you both than The King himself?"

"Yeah, you have to go," Brianna decided, hurling a nearby cushion in his direction, which he neatly side-stepped.

"You're not gettin' cold feet, are you? I can wait a sec-"

"Out!" Brianna yelled, tossing another cushion at the man's face.

"Well, if you're sure. The King has left the building!"

Sunny turned to Brianna with an embarrassed smile as The King strutted out. "Were we drunk enough to start ringing church bells?" She asked. "You wanted to marry me?" She seemed amused by the ordeal.

"I was drunk and you probably looked like that leggy brunette from the Wrangler. And who said it was my idea?" A smile cracked across her face. "We made out, right?" She asked, enjoying the grin that broke out on the other woman's face.

"Yes, yes we did. What do you think about that?"

"Well, you haven't figured out your, uh-?"

"I don't like sex, Brianna. Never will either. But that doesn't mean I don't like you."

"And, uh, you're still okay with having drunk make-out sessions with a- with me?"

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "And maybe sober ones too."

Whatever thoughts had been forming in Brianna's mind collapsed into scrambled confusion as Sunny leaned her head in, pressing her lips gently against her own.

_"Dammit!"_

A voice broke through their perfect silence. Brianna turned her head to see Veronica giving a wide stretch, her cheeks stained with red lipstick. "The only lesbian action _I _get is with a hooker," she pouted. "Not fair- and not what I signed up for." She glanced towards a small pile of sheets against the wall to her left, taking the vague shape of Cass. "For someone who _apparently_ gets too drunk to care about who she nests with, your friend is the very definition of 'heterosexual'."

"What the-?" Cass shook away the cushions on top of her, her face peeking out of the twisted sheets. "Huh? What'd I miss?"

Brianna got to her feet, taking a few wobbly steps forward. In the time it had taken for her to stop swaying, Veronica had rummaged through Cass' bag and produced Michel Angelo's camera. "Shouldn't be too easy to work o- oh! That's a compromising position." After a few small beeps, she heaved a sigh of relief. "Wow, I'm glad you can't remember any of that. Alright, up you get! Group picture! Move!"

Brianna rubbed her temples. "Hangover pictures of me and a bunch of strange women? I'll send one to my mom for her birthday."

"And I'll stick one right on the front of my parent's grave," she replied cheerfully. "Whatever it takes to encourage you-" she gave Cass' head a light kick "-to get your ass off the floor."

Cass muttered under her breath, getting to her feet. It didn't take long for the exhausted group to form a half-assed position next to each other while Veronica tinkered with her new camera, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. Brianna allowed a playful half-smile, throwing her arm around Cass for the first picture. A few snapshots later of the three and a lingerie-clad hooker told them to get the fuck out. She'd complied when asked to take a few snapshots of the four of them, however. Brianna thought that the best picture was of all of them together, where Brianna's eyes had darted for a moment in a beaming Sunny's direction, and Veronica and Cass playfully joined arms and grinned widely.

_Not such a bad thing, _Brianna figured,_ having friends._

But friends wouldn't help her in New Vegas.

* * *

><p>The New Vegas Strip was a strange sight to behold in the light of early morning. Traders and travellers dominated the area where gambling hotshots and hookers had once tread, calling out their wares and making stalls out of collapsible tables. Men stumbled out of casinos, blinking at the sun like they'd forgotten what it was and going white as they searched their empty pockets. Morning-time Vegas was not a place for the fortunate. It was a place for the lucky and rich to find that night-time Vegas was not a place for the fortunate either.<p>

"I heard the people in the Ultra Luxe are cannibals," Veronica remarked.

"I could go cannibal right now," Cass decided. "Maybe human flesh gets rid of thumpin' hangovers."

Brianna laughed at the response, her eyes darting to and from the passing faces around her. Two rival merchants with makeshift stalls were selling meat of questionable origin, shooting angry glares towards each other with every lost customer. She decided that she'd sooner eat a person than whatever mutated abomination lay dissected on a scavenged table.

_"Victor?"_

Her eyes shot up. The merchants faded into peripheral vision, the casinos no more than a glowing blur around her. Her gaze was fixed on the Securitron wheeling towards them. Her blood ran cold. Her muscles tensed, her hands clenched into fists as she fought the urge to flee. This was House's robot. He already knew what she'd done last night, and she couldn't shake the suspicion that he'd been watching her all along. And waiting for her.

"This is kinda funny, huh, us meeting up again like this? But trust me little trailhand, you won't have that sour look on your face when you see the Lucky 38!"

"What are you talking about, Victor? What do you want?"

"Not me, bud! It's Mr. House wants to see ya! And it's gotta be pretty important if he's letting you into the Lucky 38."

"He's-? What? No one's been there in decades, robot. _Centuries. _What's this about?"

"I can't say anythin' around your fellow cowboys here. Come on down to the Lu-"

"You say 'Lucky 38' one more time and I'll make you shit out scrap metal."

He wheeled back. "Okey-dokey, partner, but Mr. House has been really kind letting you have one night to go parading around Vegas. Let you finish up your business with Fancy Pants and everything! All I'm saying is-" He faltered, his voice replaced by a faint whirring before he continued in a flat tone, "He'll be angry if you don't go to meet him."

Sunny put a hand on her arm. "What happened last night? What does House want with you?"

"Go back to the hotel. I'll be back in a while."

"You gonna tell us what's going on first?" Cass snapped.

"Tell you after," she promised, her voice hushed and wavering. "I've got a meeting with Mr. House."

* * *

><p>The whispers ate up the edges of her vision. She could feel their eyes boring into her skin. She could hear their unsaid accusations, feel the uncertainty and fear of what this woman wanted and why she'd come here. She swept her gaze over the gathering crowd with eyes like steel as her heels clicked on the ground. She looked a lot calmer than she felt. She didn't look like her heart was doing backflips in her chest, didn't betray the sweating of her palms and the erratic skipping of her pulse. She walked with her back straightened by pride, like a gladiator to the ring, like a queen ready to conquer.<p>

_"Welcome to the Lucky 38 casino!" _

The wall slid open. Brianna watched as another entrance was revealed, wooden double doors with brass handles.

For the first time in centuries, the doors opened.

Courier Six stepped inside.

The Lucky 38 did not belong in New Vegas. The floor was covered by a burgundy carpet, the walls a deep, warm red. The slot machines and gambling tables around the room seemed to be in working order, as did the odd circular lamps overhead. The centrepiece was the elevator in front of her, lit up by flashing neon. She walked past the whirring slot machines, past the two glowering Securitrons that stood guard. This place was a postcard, a pre-war photograph. It was frozen in time.

The elevator opened as soon as she approached it. "Time to meet the boss!" Victor said as the doors slid shut.

And reopened again into an entirely different place not ten seconds after. She took a slow step out, finding herself on the landing of a short flight of stairs. The walls were made up almost entirely of windows, displaying a perfectly blue sky. This was the penthouse floor. She was standing inside the roulette table. Another Securitron was waiting for her at the railing. This one had a cartoon face that - instead of the usual angry policeman - looked very much like her own. She had an angular face and wavy black hair. Full lips, narrowed eyes, one brow raised. For a simple cartoon, the resemblance made her shudder.

"Well, hey there, sugar!" The robot giggled, in a voice that was strikingly human. "I'm Jane, Mr. House's favourite girl! I take care of all his needs," she tittered. "But a lady shouldn't kiss an' tell."

"A lady shouldn't throw up in her mouth either, but guess what I'm about to do?" In a more serious voice, she asked, "Look, what's he like?"

"Why, sugar, he's the maximum utmost! The bee's knees! Oh, he's so smart and handsome and- oh! I could just eat him right up, sweetie pie!"

The robot's praise faded as she examined the room. A tattered blue curtain served as a partition for the doorway next to her. Down below, a large computer stood against the wall, one large screen surrounded by six smaller ones. From the landing, she could see that the largest displayed a man's face. The portrait was stunningly realistic, capturing the condescending smugness of his raised eyebrow and smirk. His hair had a perfect side parting and his face was marked with the early lines of age. This was Mr. House. She headed down the steps to meet him, her expression stony, betraying nothing. She should have known he wouldn't meet her in person - how could he? There was more than just flesh and blood to the man who had lived for over a century.

"This meeting has been a long time coming, hasn't it, Courier Six?" His voice was deep and rich and dripping with disdain. "You've come a long way."

"Longer than you know. What do you know about me?"

"Enough. The real question is, what do you make of me?"

"I think you're a smart man in the wrong business. Last thing the world needs is a city dedicated to vice and sin. I think you've been playing your cards right for a very long time. The whole world's been waiting for you to show your hand, but you've been waiting for something. You sure are something, I'll give you that. Two centuries of nuclear holocaust, that's a lot to live through."

"You flatter me. I see plenty in your as well, make no mistake of that."

"Go on. Entertain me."

"I see a woman who's walked through fire all her life, a woman who's capable of so much more than delivering packages. I see a woman who's very familiar with chaos, a woman who knows how to contain and distort destruction to suit her own whims. Mr. New Vegas and I are very closely acquainted - I know plenty about your little wasteland trysts, about all you've seen and done. I see intelligence. You aren't some brutish mercenary, not at all. I look at you only through surveillance cameras, but I see something in your eyes that would suggest some flicker of intellect. And so I have decided to recruit you. You will be a strong ally and - I hope - a reliable one as well."

"If you see any kind of intelligence in me you'll know that I won't take a job without information."

"You'll be told everything you need to know, as soon as you give me the Platinum Chip."

"Maybe I don't have it."

"My calculations would suggest that you do. You're wearing that Chairman's jacket - you're doing very little to hide your involvement with his murder - but I don't think you came all this way just to put a bullet in his head. You took the Platinum Chip from him, it's in your possession as we speak. Give it to me and I can offer you everything. I doubt you want an incentive as crude as money, but there will be plenty of that. What I'm offering here is a ground-floor opportunity in the most important enterprise on the planet! What I'm offering is a future_, _for you _and _the human race." His tone dropped to an icy hush. "Don't think I can't replace you, Courier. If you refuse to give me the Chip, the only trouble I will go through in retrieving it will be having my Securitrons dump your body in a ditch."

"House-"

"Sorry to deny you any primitive moment of triumph, because you have done _so_ much to incite your revenge, but I'm afraid I have no time to suffer through your barbaric yawp. You are an intelligent woman, Courier, so act like it. You know your options and you know what the Platinum Chip does, I'm sure. Give the Chip to the NCR and you force the Mojave to kneel for what will undoubtedly prove itself to be nothing more than a corrupted government not unlike so many others from the Old World. Give it to the Legion and see the Mojave raped and enslaved by a band of fanatical goons. Keep it for yourself and never take another step outside this casino."

Brianna froze, chilled to the bone despite the sweat that clung to her skin. The Chip was hers, it-

It was just a delivery. The Platinum Chip belonged to Mr. House, of course it did. Any thought she could have had of- of _leading _New Vegas? It was childish, ridiculous. This man had survived over a hundred years for this, over a hundred years to handle the fallout of a nuclear war. She was a thug who cared more about the danger and less about the fallout. What could she bring to these people, to the wasteland? What could she possibly hope to achieve by destroying the Mojave's only hope at something more than bare survival and civil war - as if she even had the option. It was as asinine idea, it was a fever dream, sweet and unobtainable and nothing else but that.

"Give me the Chip and in ten years this city will have changed. It will thrive under my control. The Legion, the NCR, they could have the potential to better this city as I intend if they were not so intent on regurgitating the past. I, on the other hand, am looking to the future. And your future is not one where you walk out of this room with the Platinum Chip in hand."

Before she realised what she was doing, she had produced the Platinum Chip from her front pocket and was scanning the control panel of the computer for some slot in which to put it. She found it easily enough, a deep indent in the panel, round in shape. She slotted it in, watching as it disappeared beneath a sheet of metal. It was gone.

"What happens next?"

"A great deal. A cascade of events, with you taking the central role. But some things are better shown that said. Join me, Miss O'Reilly, in the elevator to your right. Join me, and we can change the world."

* * *

><p>"Binoculars are on the table behind you. Help yourself to a drink if you'd like, but you'll want to keep a close eye on what happens next."<p>

The elevator had taken them somewhere far underground. It reminded her of a fighting pit with its dim lighting, but instead of a chain link fence, the spectator was separated from the gladiators by a holographic blue light. A force field. Below were two brick walls with targets painted on their centre, and two Securitrons standing in the middle of them.

"I'm sure you've already seen what my original Mark I Securitrons are capable of, but allow me to give you a brief demonstration."

Heart beating rapidly, Brianna watched through her binoculars as the Securitrons took formation, lining up back-to-back and aiming at their target with the appropriate arm. They took fire, hitting the wall directly in the centre with a frenzy of rapid bullets before lowering their arms and disappearing out of sight.

"How dull, compared to the upgraded Mark II."

There was no need to announce their presence. She couldn't imagine how they had been upgraded within the space of an elevator ride, their cartoon faces now depicting gruff-looking army thugs wearing scowls and trooper's helmets. Their right arm maintained the shape of a minigun, though the design was sleeker, newer. Brianna couldn't tell what the left arm was until they were raised.

The walls exploded in a shower of bricks.

"A missile launcher, an improved minigun, heavily improved armour and A.I. With these I could take on any number of Legion or NCR, if it came to that."

Brianna shuddered, feeling oddly cold despite the warmth of Benny's jacket as she watched the Securitrons unleash a hail of bullets at each other. Not even the paintwork was scratched.

"To a long partnership, Miss O'Reilly."

Courier Six poured herself a drink and raised her glass to the future.

"To a long partnership, Mr. House."


	23. Something of A Sacrifice

**NEW VEGAS**

**JULY 25**

**08:30**

Cheyenne bounded over to meet her as soon as she stepped into the hotel room, rubbing herself excitedly against Brianna's bare legs. She bent down to scratch her behind the ears, taking comfort in the friendly animal's kisses. It was Sunny's voice that drew her attention away from the dog as she appeared from the bathroom, attempting to dry off her dripping hair with one hand. Brianna got to her feet, taking a moment to register the other woman's toned stomach, tattooed arms, exposed cleavage. She was wearing nothing but a black bra and a pair of matching boxer shorts with smiley faces on them.

"Oh, hi!" She beamed, before quickly glancing down at herself. "I mean nope, crap, sorry!" She stammered, cheeks flushing red as she backed into the bathroom. "I know we had a- a thing last night," she said, emerging after a few moments with a white dressing gown loosely pulled over her body. "But you still have to knock."

Brianna gave a half-hearted smile, moving to sit down on the bed. "We have more important things to worry about than privacy invasion," she replied. The playful comment fell past her lips in a tone of hushed uncertainty. She reached over towards Sunny and took the tie of her dressing gown in hand, wrapping the garment around her and tying it together. "Have you seen Cass and Veronica?"

"They're next door. I'll get them."

Brianna wrapped her arms around herself, legs jiggling restlessly as her mind whirred and raced. Working with House was not her safest option, not by a long shot. But this meant so much more than her life. She was used to men promising her the world, but Mr. House was someone who wouldn't disappoint. And regardless of the ulterior motives he was hiding from her, regardless of how saving New Vegas would benefit him, there was no turning down this job. This was everything she'd ever dreamed of. The Legion were marauders and the NCR were beggars, he'd said as much himself, and he'd just given her the opportunity to destroy them both, to end the civil war, to make something of herself. This was huge. This was unimaginable. Mr. House was a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in Securitron hookers, but she didn't care. Not one damn bit.

Her friends stepped in, seating themselves about the room.

"How many robot sex slaves does he have?" Was the first question out of Veronica's mouth.

"I only saw one," Brianna replied, "but he's fucking me even harder than he fucks his sexbots."

She explained everything in as much detail as she could, starting with the thirteenth floor of The Tops Casino."

"I either played my would-be killer's Platinum Pussycat or head straight to the boss and get some real work done. I let Benny tell me everything, then I put a bullet through that poor bastard's head. Thing is, though, he was pretty damn close to actually getting rid of House. I found a reprogrammed Securitron hiding in Benny's secret villain lair who was designed to respond to any question or command." She grinned. "He talked about breaking through House's defences, gaining control of the robots, doing all kinds of things. That Chip does a hell of a lot more than just upgrade the Securitrons' hitting power."

"My dad told me once that people before the war used to tie planks of wood to their feet and soar down the mountains," Cass remarked, "but your story is even less believable than that crock of shit. Don't play games with me, Bri, just tell us what actually happened in there. We don't care if you killed the snake- he deserved it anyway. Hell, I don't even care much if you slept with him, but don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying, Cass. I'll take you to the damn thing if that's what you want. It all adds up, doesn't it? After everything Benny said to me, after everything that robot told me about being able to 'eradicate' any faction I want, doesn't it make sense? House wants an army. I don't know how the Platinum Chip's going to get him that, but that's what he's after. How else would he get the NCR and Legion out of the way?"

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"You won't see it. Why the hell would I want House gone when he's giving me the chance to do everything I've ever wanted? Cass, this is the best thing that's ever happened to me. This is the difference I've been wanting to make my entire life. Why would I ever turn that down?"

"Because putting the fate of the Mojave into the hands of a vaguely ominous, seemingly immortal industrialist warlord doesn't seem like the best idea in the world, maybe?" Veronica suggested. "Did you forget that Mr. House has been dicking robots for the past couple hundred years? If he even has a dick - the guy might not even be human, remember? And if you're right - if he _is _looking for an army - then that poker chip is the key to everything he's after: control, power, like a dominatrix with a bullwhip, only the Mojave is his cowering submissive."

"Wonderful imagery, Veronica, but you're speculating."

"I know, I know, I'm not the great Courier Six who waltzed into the Lucky 38 casino in her would-be killer's jacket and a pair of stiletto heels, but that doesn't mean I'm not observant. I mean, look at this place, what does it tell you? We've been sleeping in what used to be a thriving, fully-functional vault from pre-war times until House filled it up with concrete and gave it a neon sign. Michel Angelo's studio is crumbling and the guy lives in terror of someone roughing him up on behalf of Mr. House. If he can remake the Strip in his own perfect way, he doesn't care about the collateral damage."

"You have no idea what he wants. You've never met him, remember?"

"I've seen his type before, alright?" She took a deep breath. "In the Brotherhood. His name was Elijah. I would say he was my teacher, my tutor, but that doesn't quite cover it. After my parents died, he sort of took me in, looked after me. The whole Brotherhood raised me, but Elijah made sure of it. He became the closest thing I had to family, until he got into some trouble with the other Elders. They started having disagreements. He wanted to abandon old technology, start working on new things. I agreed with him, quietly, but I knew it wouldn't go anywhere. Regardless of what we use it for - usually nothing - Old World technology is everything the Brotherhood stands for. We'll die before we change. After a while, he started pushing for the development of new weapons. There were no debates about purpose or ethics - you couldn't reason with the man. Rather than dealing with him, the others sent him East."

"And your point is?"

"He taught me something, Brianna. I learned what I didn't want to become." Her voice was smaller, almost shrinking in the shadow of a memory. "He left behind everything he knew, everything he loved. In the end, it was just him and his vision. It was like he was dropping bombs all over the Mojave, but he wasn't hearing the explosions. Know what I mean?"

"Going full speed ahead," Cass muttered, "but facing backwards the whole time."

"There's more to it than that," Brianna accused. "Something about the Brotherhood, something you aren't telling us. You think that getting rid of House can save them somehow."

"I- no, I- yes. Maybe. I'm working on it. You can't blame me for wanting to look out for my family, but this isn't just about them, I promise."

"It doesn't matter. It's not gonna work, Veronica, I've accepted that."

"You?" Veronica was incredulous. "Little Miss I-Can-Stop-Violently-Murdering-People-Any-Time-I-Want?" She shook her head. "No. I know what fear feels like, Brianna. You might not want to accept it, but you're afraid. What you wanted in the first place was the chance to be in the centre of it all, to make a difference for yourself, and now you're afraid you can't do it. I've been trying to make a difference all my life, trying to convince the Brotherhood to adapt, but words don't always work. It's the people who take action that make a difference, and now we finally can!"

"You know what?" She snapped. "Yes, I am afraid. I am really fucking afraid of risking my life for a cause that might not be everything I hoped for, but this is all I have! I'm not going to kill myself for you and your family, the Brotherhood has nothing to do with me. But regardless of that, we - can't - do - this, Veronica. Starting up an independent New Vegas, killing Mr. House, that's a pathetic pipe dream and you know it."

"I'm afraid of the Old World, Brianna. I'm afraid of what it became. What's the point in rebuilding the world in the exact same image as the old one?"

"No, you're playing guessing games because that's all you can do. And you know what? Fine." She got to her feet. "You can sit here and you can guess and compare and wish you had a little more power, a little more control, that's fine. In the meantime, I'll be risking my ass out in Bombsville trying to actually achieve something. House wants me to visit the Boomers, that closed-off settlement up north. I get them on our side, win him some artillery, and have him wrapped around my little finger in no time at all. Feel free to come along for the ride, because that's the only way we're gonna figure out a damn thing."

"I'm going with you," Sunny replied. "It's our only way forward, right?"

"It's a stupid idea," Cass interjected. "Boomers are even less sociable than the Brotherhood, but I've got an addiction to kick and I owe you big time for all you did to help. Guess it's either the whiskey that kills me or a bombardment of missiles. I'd prefer to go out with a bang."

"Alright," Veronica said, hesitating for a moment. "I'll keep my distance, see how this plays out."

That was good enough for her.

* * *

><p>They were nearing Freeside when the stranger spotted them. Brianna only subconsciously registered his presence - some NCR trooper tapping his foot anxiously on the pavement. His eyes flickered from face-to-face beneath his earth-coloured helmet, before resting finally on Brianna and her companions. She paid him no mind until he began moving towards him, arms moving stiffly by his sides.<p>

"Problem?" Cass asked, raising an eyebrow when he approached.

"Head to the NCR Embassy here in New Vegas," he rattled, as if every word was hot in his mouth. He couldn't have been older than nineteen, directing his speech towards her in particular. "You'll be directed to the right guy if you go to the front desk, and uh, from then and onwards, any past crimes against the New California Republic will be forgotten. We'll be waiting."

With that, he tipped his helmet to them and scurried off. "Some kinda joke?" Brianna guessed, before a glancing blow met her shoulder. She spun around, her mind already searching for the most effective curse to throw at the stranger. But he did not continue walking. He stopped and turned around to meet her glare.

"Do keep yourself silent, profligate."

She froze.

His voice was ice, flecked by the faintest tone of approval at her stunned silence. _The surface of a frozen pond. _"Obedient as ever, which is why The Almighty Caesar wishes to speak with you. It isn't my place to question my leader, despite his poor judgement, so I will give you this." He extended a hand to her, splaying his palm to reveal a golden pendant. It hung on a necklace of black string, engraved with the depiction of a prancing bull. "The Mark of Caesar himself. It will ensure that all your past crimes against us are forgotten, and it will grant you entrance to the Fort by way of Cottonwood Cove."

"Then you can shove it up your ass, because I'm not taking it."

"We could have you lashed on a cross for your sniping lesson, degenerate. This gift is a show of mercy, not favour."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He pressed the object into her palm. "Do reconsider."

"Sniping lesson?" Sunny asked, as he turned on his heels and left them to their confusion. "What did he mean?"

She reached for her bag and angrily shoved the 'Mark of Caesar' inside. "Remember when I got drunk back in Goodsprings and told everyone that story about the guy I shot in the balls?"

"Tell me you didn't," Veronica said. "Wait, what am I saying? Please tell me you did."

"I was with a man called Craig Boone, ex-NCR. He'd left Novac to go east, something about his wife being sold to Legionnaires. That's how I got Manny Vargas' room key - must've been that Jeanie-May bitch who did it. I was there because I had some asinine idea in my head about freeing the slaves there. When you're twenty-one, those things seem like good ideas. Looks like he thought so too, because he smuggled me in and let me help out. We stayed together for a few nights. I let him, uh, show me how it was done. We took at least twelve of 'em down before they knew what was coming. Then we ran off and never saw each other again."

"What a romance," Sunny replied, looking like she could barely believe it.

"And the moral of the story," Veronica concluded, "is that if you shoot a Legionnaire in the balls, someone's gonna get pissed off a few years down the line."

"Fantastic."

"You're the first person to head into the Lucky 38 in centuries," Cass reminded her. "They know something's up and they want in on it. Battle of Hoover Dam, my ass. This is gonna be the Battle for Courier Six."

* * *

><p>The journey took up half of a peacefully uninterrupted hour. They stood at the base of a gently rising hill, having just finished off a few old packets of food from Vault 21. The sun was burning brightly in a clear blue sky, drawing out sweat and grumbles and sharply uttered curses. To Brianna, passing through Freeside's north gate was like stepping out into the world again, where every breath of air was crisp and fresh. Veronica spent some time talking about the Brotherhood, about the finer details of their training and the technology they harboured in the Mojave. Brianna, after some encouragement, shared her experience with the Brotherhood's branch in DC. The scribe looked almost sorrowful as she was reminded of what they had once been, of how they had hunted Super Mutants across the Capital Wasteland and protected people from technology they didn't understand. After a long trek in the burning heat, it seemed as if Cheyenne was the happiest out of them all. Her tail wagged relentlessly as she raced in laps around them, occasionally disappearing into the distance and returning with a chunk of meat in her mouth or Broc flowers on her muzzle. After five minutes of incessant complaining from her friends, Brianna finally relented and turned on the radio.<p>

"Blue moon," Cass crooned. "Now I'm no longer alone."

"Without a dream in my heart," Brianna sang. "Without a love of my own!"

Laughter bubbled out from her smiling lips as the song trumpeted to a glorious end.

"Enjoying your last few minutes?" Sunny said with a teasing smile. "You know, before we all get blown sky-high?"

"I thought we agreed that you were gonna be the one- who's that?"

"A prospector?" Sunny guessed. That was the closest thing the stranger ahead of them resembled. He reminded Brianna of Easy Pete from back in Goodsprings, with worn denim overalls and a straw hat to shade his wrinkled brown face from the beating sun. He was leaning against a sign that had been shoved roughly into the sand just a short distance from the road. As they reached the hill's base, she found that someone had scratched on the words KEEP OUT - DANGER.

"No way past," came the man's gruff voice. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his overalls and moved towards them. "Boomers."

"That's why we're here," Brianna replied.

"You want blown up, go right ahead."

"They won't go firing at civilians, right?" Sunny asked.

"Go ask someone who's tried to get through. Might find somma' their remains out there if you check."

"So they'll shoot us if we go near?"

"Blow y' up, like I said. That's why I stand out here, put signs up. Cabin's nearby, so it ain't hard work. Not with my buddy Raul, but Lord knows where he's gone to. Their base is off in the distance there, past that wide stretch o' nothin'. But see the rocks there on either side of the road? Last one tried to get through thought he could get past by stayin' up against the rock wall. Now he's still up against the rock wall, just in smaller parts. You head past them rocks and they see y'. They see y', and they blow y' up. I've been workin' on a theory - just to pass the time, y'know - and I think you might have a way through. But it's a long, long shot."

"I've got the rest of my life to hear it," Brianna urged. "And right now, I'm thinking that ain't much time."

"See the houses there? Not much houses, actually, just smashed up walls and beams and the like. Not any proper houses left. I'm thinkin' you could leg it to the nearest one, do a bit o' duckin' and hidin' in the corners of the old things until they're done firing the first load at y'. Bit a' jumpin' through holes in the walls and doin' a bit of dancin' 'round land mines, y'know."

"So you're telling me to run, duck, hope for the best?" Brianna went pale, gazing out at the vast expanse of wasteland ahead.

"No." Sunny shook her head fiercely. "Tell Mr. House there's no way you can do it. Did he know it would be impossible to get in?!"

"I don't know. But I have to go, right? The Boomers have enough artillery to change everything. The Legion and NCR will be fighting over the Dam soon. What if the Legion get here first? This is the perfect opportunity to-"

"Brianna, he's trying to kill you! Can't you see that?!"

"If he wanted me dead, I wouldn't be standing here, alright?! He thinks I can do it. He thinks I-"

"The man's brainwashed you," Cass snapped. "You never cared about all this before, about the Dam and the people fighting over it."

"Cass-"

"All you want is to be a goddamn hero! Oh, wait, my mistake, heroics ain't your style. You just want to be the one person who's in charge. You wanna prove to everyone that _you_ can get shit done, that _you're_ the capable one and we're all here to make you look good! And now you're gonna get yourself blown a mile into the air to prove something we already know."

"I am _not_ getting blown up!" She argued, exasperated. "If I can't do this, House will _kill_ me. He's suspicious enough- if I don't do what he wants, he's not gonna hesitate to get me outta the way. If I do this, House gets his artillery and we make the difference that everyone wants."

"You're valuable to him, aren't you?" Sunny replied. "He can't get rid of you, he needs you! Don't die for this, Brianna. I know you're crazy and I know you're stupid and that's what I love about you, but this isn't worth it. Don't die for this, Brianna. Don't die for New Vegas."

"If I do this, Sunny, I have a way out. I have a chance at something, we all do. We can save this place, we can do some good for once. And you know what? I'm sick of being the messenger, the mercenary, the whore. My head's a fucking mess and maybe I don't know what to believe, but I do _not _believe in sitting on my ass just waiting for something to change. I'm sick of being collateral damage. When those bombs fall, I'll be the one running straight through them."


	24. High Tide Rising

**A PLACE OF LIFE OR DEATH**

**JULY 25**

**10:18**

_"Brianna!"_

The scream should have cut right through her. It should have stopped her feet and turned her head. But Sunny Smile was a million miles away and Brianna O'Reilly was running towards life or death, just as she always had. Her feet pounded against the uneven terrain. She was a bullet. She was unstoppable. Ahead of her was the open valley and broken structures and the sky and the wind and _everything. _This was everything, this moment now and nothing else as she ran_. _She ran until she couldn't hear the sobbing from somewhere far away. She ran until the hill was gone and behind her. She ran until there was nothing left but the run.

And then the noise.

A concussive _boom. _The sound of howling wind. The missiles exploded behind her eyes into flashes of colour. Shapes. People. Memories. A grey sky. A house built on a bridge. Crumbling buildings and men made of steel. Landmines. Fingers. A brush of warm skin. Greys and blues and reds. So much red. And then yellows and oranges and all the colours of the Mojave coming to life, all within a thousandth of a thousandth of a split half-second. She saw feathers and helmets and leather. She saw the sky and the sand and the mountains. She saw scales and shell and then screaming and silence. She saw brahmin and laughter, red hair and blonde hair, the frayed corners of a hood and a band of red metal. She felt steel and skin and satin and around her were a hundred happy people, all of them familiar even if she did not know them by name.

_"You've spent your whole life running," _said the dead girl.

_"I'm afraid of the Old World," s_aid the hooded woman with the sad smile.

_"Going full speed ahead," _sighed the woman with the rose pendant, _"but facing backwards the whole time."_

_"You wanted to marry me?"_

_"Cereal bars, cereal bars, cereal bars."_

_"Be safe, baby girl. Come back home when you can."_

_"The game was rigged from the start."_

_"I'm a little mixed up but I'm feelin' fine!"_

_"C'mon, don't give up on me."_

_"You're nothin' but trouble."_

_"Shootin' me would just be ill-mannered."_

_"My life is gonna be BEE-YOO-TIFUL!"_

_"To a long partnership, Miss O'Reilly."_

_"Do a bit o' duckin' and hidin' in the corners."_

Some part of her registered the dilapidated structure to her left. She raced towards it, surprised by how close it was as she sped towards the broken beams and fallen rubble. The closest wall barely reached her knee as she sped past it and through it, her foot connecting with a higher mound of dirt in the middle of the fallen shack. She threw her weight forwards in a desperate leap towards the structure's far corner, this wall standing taller than she was. Tall enough to provide her some protection as the-

Her body slammed into the corner as the world began to shake. The missiles crashed around her, exploding into brilliant orange flames. The ground tilted beneath her as she huddled against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut and waiting for the pounding in her ears to cease. She couldn't breathe. The air was burning her lungs. She was on fire.

She was dying.

And then it was over.

She didn't know how long she sat there, giddy and breathless, happy to be alive. That was the only thought her mind would allow her. _I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive. _But she wouldn't stay that way, not if she stayed here and not if she tried to run. She scurried towards the wall and peered through the largest gap. Another building lay just ahead in a similar state of destruction. It was the only cover she had. Taking a deep breath, she began to pull the beams apart and throw them aside until she could pass through the newly formed gap in the wall.

She took off at a sprint, pelting towards the building. It was in the distance, then closer and closer, then just ahead.

But the noises came too soon. Closer this time. Louder. This time, her last moment wasn't as beautiful, wasn't as slow and peaceful and perfect. She could hear no voices, no laughter, see no warm colours and fond memories. There was only a hazy, half-formed thought.

_I just wanted to-_

The world went to hell once more. Behind her was an inferno and she could not retreat but she could go _onwards._ Leaning against the remains of the wall ahead was a board of some kind. And maybe, just maybe, it would offer her some kind of protection before the missiles caught her. She could just reach out and grab it because, God, it was so close. It was all she had.

She threw herself forwards and grabbed it with both hands, feeling its weight against her chest and the smooth plastic against her fingertips.

The world blew up around her and everything slowed down.

The board was in her hands. The wall was just behind her. It was short enough for her to jump over. She turned on her heels towards the fiery chaos. The world was strangely silent as she threw herself behind the wall, shielding her body with the plastic board. The leap might have been beautiful. For a second, just a second as she was suspended in slow mid-air, she could see the next missile explode. She could see its shape and form and then nothing... nothing but fire and force...

Her body slammed against the far wall. She was half-conscious, bleeding from somewhere, aware of nothing at all.

Pain.

Her eyes snapped open. Somehow she'd survived the fiery blast that was melting away her plastic shield, but with the adrenaline surging through her veins, she hadn't felt the agony of her burning flesh. Her fingers had been wrapped around the board and the board had melted with the intense heat of the flames and now her fingers were being devoured by white-hot agony. She tossed the board aside, holding up her trembling hands. She choked back a sob. They were bright red and bleeding, the skin peeling away in thick strips from the nail beds. In other places they were black and charred, stuck with hot plastic lumps.

She shrieked. She sobbed. It was hot, searing, unbearable agony. She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Every flex of her fingers was another trail of fire shooting through her as she pulled back the beams in the wall to create a gap large enough to slip through. She had a clear view of a chainlink fence surrounding a number of buildings. That was the base. She just had to reach the gate.

But there were no more buildings waiting to protect her. She would have to run.

She would have to run very, very fast.

She took off. She knew she had lost her speed, her coordination, she had lost everything as her boots hammered on the ground. But she ran, blinded by tears and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain and pain until she hit the gate. Explosions rocketed behind her. She was almost lifted off her feet. The fence rattled and she was there, she was there, she'd made it.

_She'd made it._

"Hey, you there!" Someone barked. "How on earth did you survive that bombardment?"

"You bastard," she managed, turning to face him. He was wearing a trooper helmet and goggles. "Just let me in."

"I had you zeroed in the whole time! Nobody can be than fast!"

"Yeah? Well I can."

"I can't let you in, not 'til Raquel comes down. You move a muscle and I'll blow you to pieces."

She raised her burning hands with a wince, followed by a small whimper. "What could I possibly do to you now, you steaming sack of mutant shit?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry about your hands, but I _did_ mean to kill you."

"You speak another word to me and you'll get my fist _so _far up your-"

"I'll take this from here," came a feminine voice. The approaching speaker was young, with dark hair swept into a loose bun. "Outsider, up you get. Mother Pearl, our eldest, wishes to speak with you. Rick, open the gate."

The guard did as he was ordered. The gate swung open and Brianna stepped inside, blinking away tears. But the pain was relieved slightly by the knowledge that, despite everything, her heart was still beating, her limbs still intact. The woman, Raquel, said something about making sure she minded her matters. Brianna merely nodded and stepped inside the Nellis Air Force Base.

* * *

><p>She hadn't known what to expect from the Boomers. She'd heard rumours about strange experiments, aliens, cannibalism - all of which she'd briefly entertained - but the reality wasn't so interesting. She was almost disappointed by the gloomy old barracks where men and women in modified vault suits were doing very little of anything. In fact, most of them seemed too busy staring at her to concern themselves with anything else. Some eyes were icy as they pierced her skin, shooting unspoken threats. Others were wide and filled with fascination, as if she was the first outsider they'd ever seen. It didn't take long for Brianna to realise that she probably was. And with Raquel slapping the side of her head every time she 'needed to mind her manners', and the guard out front who'd tried to blow her apart, she could imagine why.<p>

"Mother Pearl is in here," Raquel announced, holding the door open for Brianna to enter. She'd led them to a small cottage-like house, an unusual thing to find in the middle of an army base. The building was dwarfed by the old hangars surrounding it, and it looked remarkably well-kept even from the outside. After a moment of hesitation she stepped inside, blinking in surprise at what she saw.

The place was so _normal._ But at the same time it wasn't. It reminded her of Doc Mitchell's home back in Goodsprings, but in even better condition. Not a single floorboard was cracked; not a single smear of blood or grime marked the couches. Positioned opposite each other on either end of a small table, both were pale green and neatly decorated with multi-coloured cushions. On the table between them was a chessboard. She hadn't seen one of those in a while, not one with all the pieces intact. Four significant white pieces had fallen, including the queen, but they'd won the game nonetheless. The room was comfortably spacious, stretching out into a wide kitchen unit complete with a spotless fridge, a working oven, and a shelf for plates and bowls. Overall, the place was remarkably cosy and clean. She imagined that this would be what a family home felt like, neat and tidy and safe.

Mother Pearl was seated on one of the couches. She was old, and Brianna could not say that she may once have been beautiful. There was a rugged look to her, with her wrinkled brown skin and black leather jacket worn over her jumpsuit. Brianna wasn't surprised to find that the old lady had a hunting rifle secured at her back. Her grey hair was neatly parted and her face was warm and welcoming as she turned to look at the newcomer. Her expression brightened even more as she laid eyes on Brianna, quickly getting to her feet and moving towards her.

"Well, you took your sweet time getting here, didn't you?" She chuckled. "My, my, my. I've been waiting _years_ for an outsider to come visit!"

"Plenty have tried to."

"Now, now! Those howitzers aren't just for our entertainment, dear. Explosive ordnance keeps the savages at a distance. Except you, of course! You made it here without a scratch on you!" Her eyes flickered down towards Brianna's hands. "Well, perhaps that isn't quite true. Raquel, fetch the outsider a stimpak, would you? But those howitzers gave you the chance to prove yourself to us, to prove there's something special about you."

"You were expecting me?"

"For a long time, yes. Mother Pearl knows when a high tide is rising. Times are changing, and if we don't change with it, we'll be swept away with the tide. That's good advice," she clucked, "and don't you forget it. I'm just happy it was a savage - ah, outsider - to make it in here before one of those armies came knocking on our doors. Now, take a seat. Let me have a look at you, dearie."

She did as she was instructed.

"Oh, my. Where did you get that awful scar, child?"

"Got shot in the head."

She tutted in disapproval. "And the one on your throat?"

She gave a breathy laugh as she explained that someone had tried to cut it open.

_Really can't catch a break._

"And you're alive after all that," she beamed. "Wonderful. You're just the woman I need."

"Yeah, that's great and all, but I didn't come here to do you favours. I'm making a business proposition on behalf of Mr. House."

Her shoulders slumped. "Mr. House?"

"The man who runs the New Vegas Strip. You were right when you said there was a high tide rising, Pearl. The Second Battle of Hoover Dam is on it's way and Mr. House is planning something big. He aims to get rid of the Legion - possibly the NCR as well, if they start posing a significant threat. After they're dealt with, he aims to rebuild New Vegas. To get to that stage, he needs your assistance."

"You mean he wants to take advantage of us?"

"It's in your best interests. House can offer you-"

"No. I've heard little about this House figure, but I know he's a bad, bad egg, hiding in that casino, controlling those robots. No, dearie. We aren't interested."

"He's building up an army. I don't know how, but he is."

"Ha! As if there enough of those already. The Boomers, as you call us, aren't interested in armies, nor any sort of rulership you savages have come up with. I hoped that an outsider would come here and prove to everyone that it is safe to go out in the world again. I will not have you in here convincing people to start dropping bombs over armies we have no battle with."

"Pearl, those armies are gonna run you right over. If you aren't gonna help them, you're an enemy."

"You forget that nobody has-"

"They will! One way or another, they will get through to you."

She inhaled sharply. "We may continue this discussion later, but on one condition. This base has been swimming in problems recently: malfunctions, dwindling supplies, ant infestations. We need all the help we can get. If you help us out, encourage the others to, ah, accept you and your ways, I might reconsider your proposition. How does that sound?"

"You want me to do chores?"

"We will also provide you with medical care," she continued. "You'll need it for those hands."

"Sure, sure, I'll help you. If you let my friends in too."

"Friends? You have brought others? Where are they?"

"A safe distance away. Promise you won't blow them up on their way here, and we have a deal."

"No," she stated flatly. "Absolutely not. I swear, if you're trying to smuggle in spies-"

"They won't do you any harm, I promise."

"... Is that the only condition you have?"

"It is."

"Then I suppose we have a deal."

* * *

><p>"Brianna?!"<p>

The colour had drained from Sunny's face. She sat by the crooked warning sign on the hilltop, her hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her eyes were rimmed with red. Veronica sat against the post, fingers tapping restlessly on the road. Cass' box of Fixer clattered on the ground when she saw Brianna approaching. Cheyenne wagged her tail and released a happy bark, bounding over to greet the exhausted courier. Her wounds had been cleaned and dressed by Dr Argyll after some persuasion from Mother Pearl.

Sunny rushed towards her and enveloped her in a tight hug. Brianna returned the embrace, burying her face in the curve of her shoulder. In a matter of seconds, she turned from steel to skin. As Cass pressed a small purse of caps into a smug Veronica's palm, Sunny stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Brianna's. Her brain was starved of oxygen for a dizzying moment as she returned the kiss, running her fingers through the tangles of Sunny's hair. This wasn't Courier Six and the war was suddenly far away. This was Brianna O'Reilly, desperate for warmth and yearning for change. This was her and this was everything, this was all she'd dreamed of as she held Sunny Smiles in her arms, deaf to the explosions in the distance.


	25. Accepting Her Chains

**NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE**

**JULY 25**

**11:49**

The day progressed with little excitement. After they returned to the NAFB, Mother Pearl welcomed each one of them before sending them out with chores. _C__hores. _She'd even downloaded a list of them onto Brianna's Pip-Boy. There were patients who needed tending, missiles that needed counting, and about fifteen different things that needed checked, rechecked, cleaned, tended, assembled and killed. Sunny helped a crying kid find her lost teddy before floating off to do some work with patients. Cass went off with Raquel to go hunting for lost grenades. Veronica repaired every damn thing that needed repairing while Brianna headed down to the reactor level to clear out a colony of giant explosive ants.

"You know, I'm not overly fond of doing chores for a bunch of xenophobes," Veronica remarked, slamming her fist down hard onto the ant's head as it lunged in her direction. When she found out that she couldn't use a pistol with bandaged hands, asking for help became Brianna's only option. Veronica gladly obliged. "I mean, I do stuff all the time for the Brotherhood, but at least they don't blow people up for a living." She kicked the second ant aside and moved swiftly towards the third, turning its brain into a splatter of red paste. "No, they just grumble a lot and send me out to collect their damn groceries instead of listening to what I have to say." She finished off the another ant with a punch to the spine. "Wait, am I talking out loud?"

Brianna grabbed the nearest ant by the antennae and promptly sliced its face in half with her axe. "If this is what it takes to get them on House's side, fine."

Veronica finished off the remaining two ants with the same number of effortless punches. "Are you sure you aren't just hasty to do more work for House so you don't have time to change your mind about helping him?"

"Veronica, just don't."

"Alright, alright, I'll drop it for now, but only because I've been doing some thinking."

"Wow, that's a first."

"Who helped you fight off a colony of explosive fire ants?"

"Alright, go on. What have you been thinking about?"

"The Brotherhood, as usual. I think the heart of our problems is that we isolate ourselves. Our training is top-notch, we have technology that most outsiders have never even heard of, but when it comes down to it, we're losing because we're so afraid of the outside world. We're afraid that other civilisations are advancing faster than us, succeeding where we failed. We always make enemies, never allies, and we refuse to let outsiders into our ranks. That's why this whole thing with Mr. House makes me so angry. We have common enemies, like the NCR. We could be really useful to him if we had the recruits, the alliances, if we stepped outside again."

"And that's what you're so scared of."

"Exactly. Even if I can persuade them to change, I'm scared that it'll just be too little too late. That's why I can't shake off the idea of using Benny's robot to get House out of the way. If people knew that the Brotherhood assisted in bringing down the Legion _and_ the NCR, they'd start to accept us. There'd be no one left to beat us down." She sighed. "But you were right. It's a pipe dream. And I know that asking you to do something like that, go behind House's back, put your life on the line like that, that was stupid of me. But if House ever wants you getting rid of the Brotherhood, if he decides he wants us out of the way-"

"You'll kill me?"

"I'll wrap you in tinfoil and feed you a couple of pulse grenades," she promised, bouncing up on the balls of her feet as a thought struck her. "Pulse grenades! And pulse guns and pulse freakin' mines! Those things could roast the Brotherhood in their power armour before they could fire a shot of plasma! Yet another thing they're too scared to think about."

Brianna managed an exhausted smile. "Let's just worry about one group of xenophobic assholes for now."

* * *

><p>"And then, like, fifty of them surrounded us! Well, maybe it was more like ten, but it was still traumatic. Gonna take years of therapy to get over it."<p>

"Is that so, dear?"

Mother Pearl chuckled heartily at Veronica's story as she ushered them into the living room. "Looks like you're still alive and well, so it can't have been too bad." She motioned for them to sit. "I've heard lots of stories about you four. You've made quite the impression on the youngers."

"So you're happy now?" Brianna asked, taking a seat and rubbing her temples. "Ready to renegotiate?"

"Not yet, dear. I'm not keeping you around just to do housework, not at all."

"What, so it's sexual favours now too? You want us to leap through flaming hoops?"

"Now, now-"

"We had a deal, Pearl."

The old woman pursed her lips, features softening with concern. "If you want to rest here for the day, you're welcome to. After everything you and your friends have done, I'm sure the youngers won't mind sparing an extra bed. You look exhausted, child, running errands for a man who ordered you here, of all places, with no means of getting through to us but your own."

"I look exhausted because there's a fucking war coming, grandma."

"If I was your grandma I'd be washing your mouth out with Abraxo for that language," she scolded. "But trust me, child, you'll want to be a part of this. As I said before, I have waited so long for an outsider to get through to us. You and your friends are those little pieces of the world we've been missing out on all these years. Because of that, we're willing to help you. But there's one thing, just one more thing I _have_ to ask. I've been waiting for this opportunity since I was barely a woman."

"Alright, alright, fine. This better be important."

"Oh, it is. I need you to find Jack and Loyal. You'll find them in one of the hangars just outside of here - Loyal will be the white-haired man muttering to himself and fiddling with scrap. Jack will no doubt have that girl at his arm, Janet. Young love is a dear thing. But do go quickly, outsiders. I've waited all my life for this."

"Then you'll reconsider my offer?"

"I promise. Just tell Loyal that it's happening. Tell him we're making the lady fly."

* * *

><p>Brianna had never seen a hangar before. It wasn't much to look at, just a vast amount of space cluttered with shelves and large metal crates. In the very centre of the place was a small plane, beaten and hollow. A few Boomers in jumpsuits milled about, idly chatting as they filled crates and emptied crates and did little of anything else. Her eyes darted restlessly from person to person, searching for a man with white hair. Her tingling fingers tapped impulsively against her thigh as her gaze shifted.<p>

She heard Jack before she saw him. He was moaning like a New Vegas whore, pinned against a secure stack of crates by a petite woman with flaming red hair. They at least had the decency to keep themselves in a somewhat secluded corner, but they'd thrown any thought of subtlety to the wind. The muscular engineer had his arms wrapped around his girlfriend's waist and was impatiently lowering them to her ass.

She rolled her eyes and headed towards them, waving to get their attention. They ignored her completely. "Hello? Outsider here, violent and deadly. I've got business with you."

He pulled away from the girl for a moment. "Oh, shit. I heard what the others were saying, but _damn." _He abandoned Janet completely, looking Brianna up and down with wide-eyed astonishment. "You look different than what I thought. Jesus, what kind of scar is that? Aw, man, I bet you've got the coolest stories. We should get a drink, man!"

"Jack, baby," Janet simpered, trailing her fingers along Jack's arm. "Let's go somewhere a little more private."

"I'm coming, gorgeous," he promised. "Maybe another time, outsider? I'm free after five, but right now I've got business elsewhere."

"Is getting your rocks off more important than making the lady fly?"

He froze. "Janet, babe, this is gonna have to wait. Janet, sweetie, wait-" But she was storming off before he could finish his sentence. Jack sighed, shaking his head in dismissal. "This is for real, right? Where'd you hear about the lady?"

"Mother Pearl told me to pass along the message. Whatever it is, it's happening. It's happening today."

"Oh man, this is great! Loyal's in the other hangar, I'll take you to him."

* * *

><p>"That sounds real creepy, Loyal."<p>

"Ain't nothin' creepy about it," the old man scolded. "It's a term of respect. The Lady in the Water, the Lady in the Lake, whatever you wanna call her."

"Alright, alright, but what _is _it?"

"It's a bomber. A big ol' plane that fell down from the sky into Lake Mead, long before the war that killed just about everything that ever lived. It's almost perfectly intact, just a few bits and pieces missin' from the engine and such. Lucky we've got all the missin' parts right here. You see where I'm goin' with this?"

"You want us to get it for you."

"Exactly!"

"So we're just gonna pick it up and carry it on our backs?" Cass asked.

The sarcasm was wasted on him. "Lake Mead ain't too far," he continued. "I'll mark it down on that Pip-Boy later for handiness' sake. Then I'll fix y' up with a remote detonator and some deployable ballasts. All y' gotta do is attach 'em to the bottom of the plane's wings, swim back up, aim the detonator and fire. Let buoyancy do the rest. Once it's raised, we can get our old Mr. Gutsy 'bots to lift it back here."

"You really think you can get it working?"

"I'm certain of it," he grinned. "It's always been a dream of mine to see the Lady fly at last. I'd be really grateful, miss. I'm sure Pearl would be too."

"Even if we agree to this," Veronica said, "high levels of radiation haven't succeeded in giving us gills. How do we do this without, you know, drowning?"

"Simple! Hold your breath!" He laughed. "And if that doesn't sound good, you could always ask Jack here." He clapped a hand down on the younger man's shoulder.

"I've been working on something to help with that," Jack explained. "I made this sweet mask that'll go around your mouth and neck, looks really cool - I call it a rebreather. What it does, basically, is recycle your air. See, I used a small cannister of sodium hydroxide which is fixed onto the back, which reacts with the carbon dioxide you exhale to form calcium carbonate, then I put in a second cannister for pure oxygen. What that does is basically-"

"Does it work?" Brianna pressed.

"Obviously! I was the one who designed it! So you'll do it, right? You'll all head out there and help us out?"

"Consider it done."

"Aw, man, this is the best day of my life!"


	26. Fools Rush In

**THE WASTELAND**

**JULY 25**

**15:03**

The walk was blissful, even with the ballast packs dragging along behind her. Leaving the Nellis Air Force Base had lifted a heavy weight from Brianna's shoulders, clearing away the hazy cloud of self-doubt that had clung to her like an impenetrable fog. The golden Mojave sun washed away the dark pallet of her thoughts, leaving nothing ahead of her but the road, and the promise of a lake somewhere in the distance. A flowing wave of heat blurred the horizon as crows circled overhead. As always, the Mojave Desert gave her courage. An upbeat Rad Pack rendition of an Elvis song was blaring from her Pip-Boy's speakers, bringing a much-needed smile to her face. She knew the words by heart.

"_Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," _Sunny sang.

_"And so I come to you, my love,"_ she replied, _"with my heart above my head!"_

_"Though I see there's danger here!" _Cass belted.

_"If there's a chance for me," _Veronica sang, inviting the rest of them to chorus with her.

_"Then I don't care!"_

_"Fools rush in where wise men never go," _Brianna continued.

_"But wise men," _Sunny trilled, _"never fall in love!"_

With a mischievous smirk, Brianna took Sunny by the hand. The shorter woman fell gracefully into the movement, twirling elegantly with her fingers locked in the courier's own. They were quick to work around her missing hand, finding themselves in a waltzing position with Sunny's arm around Brianna's waist. _"So how are they to know?"_

_"When we met, I felt my life begin!" _The group sang, as Brianna and Sunny began a hashed imitation of a waltz, spinning around in wide circles.

_"So open up your heart and let this fool rush in!"_

"Quiet!" Cass hissed as the music trumpeted to an end. Brianna frowned and turned off the radio. "Keep still and shut the fuck up."

Brianna was quick to detect the urgency in her tone and just as quick to react. With hands still tightly wrapped, she hastily undid the leather straps securing her axe to her leg. Veronica assumed a defensive position next to her, Power Fist raised. Sunny drew her pistol while Cass readied her shotgun.

At first, Brianna couldn't see the danger. Then she spotted that wicked flash of orange in the sunlight, distinguishing the predator immediately. Her blood turned to ice. She hadn't even thought. Hadn't even taken a moment away from her own thoughts to even _consider _what might be out here waiting for them. And she'd known, she'd known from the beginning that there were nests here, of course she had. She'd dealt with these things before, she knew how fast they were, how deadly. They matched the size of a grown mole rat, with four ragged orange wings and sharply pointed stingers. She'd watched people die from their sting, watched them thrash and scream as the poison ate up their insides and ran like fire through their veins.

"We have to go," Sunny whispered, as if a hushed voice would save their lives.

"There's no other way around."

"We can _find_ another way."

"Sunny-"

"I think it's a little late for that," Veronica said. And she was right.

The cazadors were on them.

Brianna threw Sunny aside as the first insect attacked. She threw it back with the handle of her axe, stepping back and swinging upwards. The cazador shot above her, dodging the blow and aligning its stinger with her throat. She sidestepped the lunge before it could skewer her throat, ready to slice through its abdomen before a glint of orange invaded her peripheral vision. There was another coming at her from behind. Spitting a curse, she cut through the first cazador's wing with a swift diagonal motion before turning on her heels. The second was on her in a flash of red and orange. She ducked low beneath the dart of its stinger, missing the fatal blow by inches. Its buzzing increased in frequency, its wings beating with fierce intensity as its chitinous arms reached for her head. She struggled wildly to escape its grasp, but she was frozen in place. That wicked point was aligned perfectly with her stomach. She had seconds. With a scream of anger and terror, she forced the insect back with all her strength. Where was her axe? Where were her friends? It shuddered against her grip, almost wriggling free before she thought of the most ridiculous plan.

Brianna opened her mouth wide and bit down hard on the cazador's head. Her mouth filled with blood and chitin. Her stomach lurched. She bit down harder, forcing the flailing creature back as a piercing shriek swelled in her ears. The cazador grew limp, letting its stinger fall uselessly away from her torso. Brianna grabbed for its upper wings and pulled hard, hearing a satisfying _rip _as the dead bug dropped to the ground.

"Holy shit!" Cass exclaimed, blasting a hole through the nearest attacker as Brianna retrieved her axe. When the cazador insisted on living, she aimed a little more carefully and blew right through its face. Veronica finished off another with a few well-placed blows, deflecting an oncoming lunge with her gauntlet before finally going in for the kill. The swift uppercut knocked the cazador's head upwards, allowing her precious seconds to slam both fists down on its dying body. Cass and Sunny tore the final few apart with a hail of bullets before the gunfire ceased at last.

"I thought that was supposed to be hard?" Sunny asked, tossing her weapon to Cass for reloading. "There's no way we just did that, right?"

"Sure feels like we did," Brianna said, spitting bits of cazador onto the sand. "Were we the only ones who got to see that? Seriously?"

Cass swung her rifle over her shoulder. "It'll be a story for the grandkids."


	27. Volare!

**LAKE MEAD**

**JULY 25**

**16:15**

The lake was like nothing she'd imagined. The glistening drew her eye as soon as they reached the hill's crest, sparkling like nothing she'd ever seen. Brianna stopped in her tracks to take in the view, her companions already doing the same. The sun rested peacefully over the mountains beyond as the calm water reflected the lazy blue sky, stretching out for miles in every direction. Hoover Dam was visible in the distance and a number of small barracks dotted the shore. It was like an image from a postcard, something still and quiet and undisturbed.

Veronica gave an impressed whistle. "It's hard to believe this place isn't a radioactive toilet, right?"

"Should've brought bathing suits," Sunny complained.

"Forget bathing suits. Ever been skinny dipping?"

"Hell no," Cass interjected. "If I ditch these clothes I'll crisp up like a squirrel on a spit."

"Then you'd literally be smoking hot," Sunny pointed out with a snigger of amusement. Veronica barely stifled her laugh.

"You do whatever you want," Brianna said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards into a faint smile as they finally reached the jetty. Sunny joined her, dropping her bag down on the walkway as Cheyenne padded alongside her. The dog peered down at her reflection in the water before taking a startled jump back. A growl began to rise in her throat. "You don't have to dive down there and raise a bomber from the middle of the lake."

"You think you'll be okay down there?" Sunny asked. "You've got the thingy, right?"

"I've got all the thingies," she confirmed, setting down her weapons before reaching in her bag and fishing out Jack's rebreather. She tucked it under her arm and retrieved the launcher. It resembled a small pistol, with a bright red button where the trigger would usually be situated.

"It'll work, won't it? You're not gonna drown on me or anything?"

"Depends on how many lakelurks are crawling under there."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Actually, no, not okay, not yet. I was, uh, kinda wondering if I could ask you something."

Brianna dropped the ballast packs and set down the rebreather. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Okay."

"Okay."

"I was just sort of wondering, uh- sorry, I'm trying to, uh, figure this out, uh-" She paused for a moment. "I was just wondering, you know, what are we?"

She couldn't suppress her laugh. "What are we? Seriously? That's lame."

"I know, I know, it's stupid."

"Pathetic."

"But you still have to answer me. You can't just, you know, kiss me like that outside Nellis and not tell me what you want from this."

"I'm pretty sure it was you who kissed me first."

"You're not making this easy for me, O'Reilly," she scolded. "Are we friends? Is it more than that? Not that your friendship is some crappy consolation prize or anything," she added. "I don't think that at all. Just tell me what _you_ think."

She opened her mouth a few times, tasting different words before she found the right ones. "Hell, I don't know. That kiss in front of Nellis, I didn't think about it. It was impulse, it didn't mean anything. I mean-" She gave an incredulous laugh. _"Wow._ I'm sorry, that was the biggest crock of shit I've ever come out with. It didn't mean nothing. God, at the time, I thought it meant everything."

"Can I just tell you what I think? With all the stuff that's going on, I don't know if I'll get another chance."

"That might make things easier."

"I think you're crazy," she blurted. "But at the same time, I think you might be the only person I've ever met who knows exactly who and what they are. All the crazy, reckless stuff you do, all those little snippets I get of the things you've done before, I think it's all incredible. You don't do anything without a reason, you don't pay any attention to the things that don't benefit you, you don't seem to care what anyone else thinks. I've never met anyone like that. It's refreshing, somehow. I mean, I was happy back in Goodsprings, but I wasn't really _doing_ anything, you know? I think I forgot what living was like until you showed up with a bullet in your head. I knew I had to get back in the world, that I had to make a difference somehow, and I thought that getting rid of the Powder Gangers would be a first step. You were the first person to support me with that, the first person to really give me a push. When I realised that there was no warm, fuzzy sweetheart beneath all that violence and anger, I was terrified. And kind of transfixed. That feeling never went away.

"Okay, the point is that I feel something towards you that's a little more than platonic affection. I don't know if 'love' is the right word yet. I think it's probably too soon for that, even by wasteland standards where every single day could be your last chance to tell someone how you feel about them. I guess I'm just crazy about you, can we stick with that? I don't know what that means or where it's gonna go from here, but that's how I feel."

"You know, I think you might end up being one of the best things that ever happened to me."

"Are you together yet?!" Veronica called, as their lips met for a giddy, breathless kiss. "I bet Cass another fifty caps that it would get serious!"

They pulled away for a moment to look at each other. "Are we?" Sunny asked.

"I think so."

"Maybe."

"Why not?"

"Okay, okay, we are."

Cass raised an eyebrow before returning to her sunbathing position, her freckled face to the sun and most of her clothes strewn about the walkway. Veronica shook off her scribe robes and cheered as Brianna began to pull off her boots and remove her armour. She'd picked up some clean underwear from the hotel manager back in Vault 21 - apparently they were exact replicas of those worn during the vault days, but she couldn't see how a plain grey bra and tiny grey shorts were worth the sky-high charge. It only took a moment to secure the rebreather around the lower half of her face. Things seemed to be in working order, but she was sceptical of Jack's assurance that it would provide her with twenty minutes of oxygen. She tied the ballast bags around her ankles so they would drag along behind her as she swam, and began to head along the jetty towards the lake.

"Which one of you is gonna tell my mom if I get eaten by a lakelurk?"

"Would she be cool if I introduced myself as your girlfriend?" Sunny asked.

"That would probably ease the pain of my untimely death."

"Then I'll do it."

"Hey, we're going with you," Veronica called, heading towards them. "I mean, not necessarily down metres and metres below the surface of the lake into vast unknown territory, but we'll be close by." She tugged down her pants to display a cute pair of short blue boxer shorts before reaching for her tank. "Laugh at my jiggly thighs and I'll slice you in half," she threatened, tossing the tank aside and giving her legs a playful shake. They were slightly chubby and jiggled just as promised. A few grey marks zigzagged along her thighs.

"You look fine," Sunny assured her. "All legs are cute - no exceptions."

"I guess I am pretty adorable."

"Sure are, Vee," Cass said with a smirk, slipping up behind her and landing a light slap on her ass. Veronica swatted her over the head in retaliation.

"Vee?" Sunny's eyes twinkled. "Is there something you're not telling us?

"What can I say?" Cass replied, putting her arm around the scribe. "We've been doing some bonding. Fills in those lonely hours when you're dragging my old best friend into dark corners."

"There isn't a dark corner that could keep me away from you," Brianna promised, sitting down at the edge of the walkway and dipping her feet in the water.

"Bullshit."

"No worries, no worries," Veronica teased. "I've been dragging Cass into some dark corners of my own."

"You wish," she scoffed. "I don't play for your team, sweet cheeks."

"You couldn't keep up with my fetishes anyway."

"Why? You like being really, really wet?"

"Sure do."

"Great." Cass gave Veronica a firm shove, knocking her down with a _splash_ into the water. Cheyenne bounded in to rescue her, barking her way along the jetty before plunging into the lake. "I- think I'm paralysed-" Veronica gasped, lashing out her arms for a moment before she got her bearings. "Holy crap!"

Brianna was quick to join her. The water was amazing, cool and refreshing as it lapped against her skin.

"Have fun," Cass called, lying herself down to sunbathe on the walkway. "Just you and me up here, sweetcheeks," she said, winking at Sunny.

"You're so cold," Veronica pouted, gliding over towards the jetty. "About as cold as this!"

"Shit!" Cass exclaimed, as she grabbed her ankle and dragged her into the water.

"Revenge is sweet," Veronica sang, swimming back to escape Cass' thrashing limbs.

"Is it- is it cold?" Sunny asked, wriggling off her armour and standing a safe distance away from any grabbing hands.

Brianna watched her for a moment in silence, tracing her eyes over her pear-shaped figure and matching black underwear. God, those tattoos were gorgeous. After a moment, she shook herself. "Come find out!"

Cass and Veronica allowed her room to dive in, Cheyenne wagging her tail impatiently as her master took a few shorts steps back. Sunny moved to jump, then hesitated, then moved again. She took a moment to steel herself, leaping off the walkway and throwing herself into the lake. She hit the water with a crash, cheeks flushed with excitement. "Oh my God! It feels amazing!"

"You ready to say your goodbyes?" Brianna asked. "You know, for when I disappear into unknown depths to go searching for a giant bomber?"

"We had a nice time together," she said, floating on her back. "I'll remember you fondly."

Brianna rolled her eyes and sank down beneath the lake's surface, feeling the water rushing up to swallow her. The sound of laughter and splashing faded into nothing. She was weightless. Every ache seemed to lift from her body and drift away. She hadn't even noticed the cramping of her blistered feet or the trembling of her exhausted muscles until the pain was gone. Even her head was relieved, just for a moment, of the constant thumping pain. She'd lost her tattoos, her scars, everything the wasteland had given her. She was unmarked, untainted, something whole and fresh and new again. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in the world anymore. This place was something alien, a hazy blue-green world where the ground was metres and metres below her. She forced herself downwards, a struggle with the ballast packs trying to pull her back to Earth. As she went down further, she saw old tires lodged in the sand below, shopping trolleys floating around with their contents buried beneath the seabed. She swam onwards and onwards, drinking down the oxygen from her mask as she explored. Frying pans, old barbecues, a few rusty tin cans. A silvery blur flashed in the corner of her eye. Were those fish? She swam for a moment to catch up with them before the ballast pack on her right ankle snagged on something below her.

The string had caught itself on a large metal wing.

The Lady was smaller than she'd expected, fallen against a cluster of rocks. Surprisingly, the body was almost completely intact. She tugged at the string and pulled herself free, untying the first ballast pack and getting to work on securing it to wherever it needed to be secured. She did exactly as Loyal had demonstrated using one of the large model planes, following his instructions as well as she could and praying silently to whatever underwater God was listening that she wouldn't mess it all up. She almost wished she'd sent Veronica down, but the calm lapping of the water against her skin shook that idea from her mind. Once the magnets on the ballast pack connected with whatever thingy-ma-jig was beneath the first wing, she got to work on the second one, taking long, deep breaths as she went.

_Just... just gotta move... move to the..._

Her brain was growing foggy. Every thought passed slowly, uncertainly through her brain. Her breaths were growing ragged. The air was thinner somehow, not quite filling her lungs. And then a thought struck her. She realised then in a split second that Jack was full of shit and this thing wouldn't give her twenty minutes of oxygen because her fingers were shaking as she struggled with the ballast pack and she was running out of oxygen and she looked up, glanced up for just a moment to see the surface of the water so high above her.

She had to move.

The ballast pack clicked into place. Everything was ready. She directed herself backwards, ready to swim up towards the surface before she realised that the string was still tied to her ankle. She reached for it, gulping down another breath as she pulled and pulled on the knot to loosen it. Her entire body was quaking with fear. With one final pull she tore it loose, just enough to wriggle her foot through. Okay. Everything was in place. How were you supposed to breathe when you were running out of oxygen? Short and rapid or long and slow? Did it matter?

No.

She just had to launch it. She had to get above the water and launch the damn thing. She just had to swim up. She tried. She kicked her legs, propelled herself higher. Higher. Her head was swimming and whatever air remained in the rebreather seemed to lodge in her throat. The surface was so high, so far. She reached her arms out, trying to grasp the sunlight. Her vision wobbled unsteadily. It was just the water, she knew, just her body making ripples, that was all. She had to launch the bomber. If she could launch it now and grab a wing to pull herself up then maybe she had a chance or maybe that was bullshit and she was going to die anyway.

She fumbled for the detonator, grabbing it with trembling hands and aiming.

But she knew it wouldn't work. Not under here.

_I'm going to die._

She didn't fully register the thought crossing her mind. She only vaguely acknowledged the detonator escaping her grip.

And then she panicked. She thrashed and kicked and grabbed the detonator and swam for the surface, desperate.

So desperate.

_Why?_

She swam.

_Because I want to live._

She swam.

_Why?_

She swam.

Because there was so much she loved up there. Because there were so many people who loved her, so many people she hadn't had the chance to meet just yet. She'd breathed so much life into so many places and how selfish would that be, to never go back in search of those people who carried a part of her in their pocket? She had so much to do, so much to believe in, so much to fight for. No amount of water could quench the fire she had in her. The thought of daylight gave her strength, the thought of home and the thought of purpose. The thought of Sunny Smiles gave her the strength to carry the ocean in her arms and the thought of New Vegas gave her the courage to fly.

She broke through the surface of the water. Her lungs cried out desperation as she tore off the rebreather, sucking in as much oxygen as she could. No other sound managed to break past her aching throat. She searched frantically for her friends, finding only blurred shapes in the distance slowly growing bigger. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when the world went dark. She felt a hand on her, then another. Movement. Voices. Water. Air. Another breath.

"Are you okay?"

And then she opened her eyes to see Sunny. And the water and the sky and a jetty and barracks and other ridiculous, unimportant things that were not Sunny. She sank down into the woman's arms just for a moment as she caught her breath, suddenly small and breaking as she was wrapped up tightly in her comforting arms. She released a heavy sigh of relief, slowly pulling away as the world came back to her in full clarity.

"What happened?" Sunny asked, as the concerned faces of Veronica and Cass came into view, followed by a panting Cheyenne.

"Stupid-" She coughed up a splash of water into her hands. "Stupid mistake."

"It didn't work?" Veronica asked, eyeing the rebreather as it floated along the lake.

She could only shake her head.

Cass muttered a curse. "You alright to raise this thing?"

She nodded, taking in one more shaky breath. "Y-yeah. Fuck yeah."

Cass gave her an understanding nod and glided back. Sunny swam towards Cheyenne, holding her collar to keep the excitable animal at a safe distance. Veronica's expression flickered from excited to tense as she moved to join Cass. The look of concern was gone within a moment, however, as Brianna slowly raised the detonator. She was alive. Her muscles were screaming and her head was pounding but she was alive and this was it.

This was everything.

She hit the button and the Lady flew.

It happened in seconds. The Lady shot up, throwing water in all directions as she broke through the surface with her new-found buoyancy. For a moment, everything was a blur, a flash of blue and green before the plane tilted drastically to one side. That was when she realised she was standing on top of it. Her feet slipped and she reached out to grip the metal surface, but found no purchase. And then it steadied, leaving her standing tall and triumphantly atop the B-29.

_"Holy shit!" _She laughed, grinning madly and allowing the detonator to fall from her grip. _"Yes!"_

She crashed back down into the water, her entire body buzzing with excitement.

"We gonna go back to the Boomers?" Cass asked. "Those guys are gonna be lickin' your asshole once they hear about this."

"Mr. House will be turning his leftover Securitrons into your own personal maids," Veronica joked. "It'll be great."

"Do we have to leave already?" Sunny pouted, drifting towards Brianna. "We can come back here, right? Some time?"

She reached for her hand beneath the lake's surface. Their fingers linked together.

"Some time," she promised, and meant it."

* * *

><p>"What you've done for us is a miracle, child," Mother Pearl beamed. "A blessing, truly and honestly."<p>

"Don't get too excited. We had a deal, remember?"

She gave Brianna a disapproving look, taking a seat on the couch. "Of course."

Brianna sat herself down next to her companions, all gathered on the chair and listening.

"I'm still asking you to change your mind," Pearl said.

"And I'm telling you that-"

"Listen to the woman," Veronica suggested. "Just hear her out."

"Thank you, dear." The old woman gave Veronica a fond look. "You know well enough that I don't agree with what you're doing. I'm tired of this world being ruled over by higher powers, by armies who can just roll over anyone they want. The world out there is full of savages, but I believe that there are a few worth saving, a few who deserve a world without big armies fighting amongst themselves and leaving the smaller folk to rot. Here in Nellis we don't have rulers. The Elders only push the youngers in the right direction, provide a little helping hand. That said, a healthy organisation like that seems impossible for the wasteland. So if your world must have a leader, shouldn't it have a human one?"

"You're acting as if I have some other choice," she replied carefully, glancing at Veronica. The scribe was shifting uncomfortably, her mouth tightly shut. "You, huh?"

"I'm on your side," she insisted. "I just thought we should let her know."

"She has a point," Pearl agreed. "She told me all about this strange robot that can help you. Oh, goodness, I can just imagine." Her face lit up with delight. She appeared lost in her own visions for a moment before she fell back down to earth. "You've done us a great service. Whoever you choose, we'll fight for, but please make the _right choice._ We'll set up a ham radio signal if you need to contact us, and I'm sure you will. But it's up to you to make the right decision, dear. Just you."

* * *

><p><em>Just you.<em>

Those words flitted around her head the whole journey back from Nellis. And it was not a quiet journey. It began with yelling, mostly from Brianna and mostly at Veronica's expense. Her anger stemmed from insecurity, fear, and whatever else was eating her up inside. She was the one who was working for House, _she _was the one who had ran through flames and almost drowned to get to where she was, so what gave this jumped-up scribe the right to go blustering on with her own ideas? She knew Veronica had the right idea, the right intentions, so she let the matter go after a while, but her anger was soon reignited. She ranted about House, the Boomers, the Brotherhood, even the goddamn heat. Veronica got the worst of it before Sunny could finally shut her up and assure that things would be right as rain.

There was no rain in the Mojave.

There were apologies. Short, hard apologies. She was sorry for losing her mind over Veronica's well-meant conversation with Pearl. In the end, that conversation had encouraged the old woman to allow them access to Nellis whenever they needed it. If Yes Man was ever taken into consideration again, at least Pearl would know about it in advance. Brianna contemplated that maybe none of her choices could ever be the right one. Maybe everything would fall to dust after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam burned out. But she had to choose.

_Just you._

The elevator ride was lonely, even with Victor's cheerful comments about how great it was to see her again. The elevator _dinged, _the doors opened. She passed through them without a word, sick at the thought of helping House and sick at the thought of doing anything but. The guy knew what he was doing, she told herself. She was a courier and he was a genius. Just the same empty assurances running through her mind over and over and over again. The human race would be saved, House had promised. But at what cost? How many would be killed for resisting? How many would just be left in the wasteland to die?

And how many more if she tried to take over Vegas herself?

"You took your time."

"I did everything you asked. The Boomers are with you." _  
><em>

"You mean to say that you managed to get through to them by yourself?"

"Wasn't hard. Almost lost my fingers, but whatever."

"I don't know what to say, Miss O'Reilly, and I am rarely speechless."

"And here I thought you had faith in me."

"I had faith that you would return here to request aid, something that would assist you in getting past the artillery they were surely going to fire upon you."

"You knew about that?"

"Of course."

"Then why not help me in the first place?"_  
><em>

"As I said, I was waiting for you return. Think of it as a test. You were going to come across an old man by his shack before entering Nellis. You would learn that attempting to get past the bombardment would get you killed. Then you would make a choice. You would return to request aid, or you would decide that you just weren't cut out for the kind of hard work that came with this partnership. You would use that excuse to run away. It would take very little effort on my part to track you down and have you killed, but that's irrelevant now. You're more trustworthy than most, more loyal than I expected. But still dangerous, yes. Possibly."

"Dangerous? How?"

"Because you're afraid. Afraid, or entirely fixated on this single-minded goal to be in the centre of events."

"What makes you think that?"

"You're a courier. You deliver a package and you are paid accordingly."

"Well, shit."

"You delivered the Platinum Chip. I asked you to take the elevator to your right. Do you remember getting paid for the Chip's delivery, Courier?"

"No."

"No, of course not. You were too distracted by the promise of a front-row seat. Or you were too afraid to decline, to ask for payment, to turn away from a steady dropping of Howitzers. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. But no matter. You will be compensated accordingly for the delivery of Platinum Chip as well as your negotiation with the Boomers. For now, let's discuss the matter of your next task."

He paused, allowing just enough time for the Platinum Chip to slowly rise from the slot where she had once placed it.

"I'm sure you are aware that your first task was a test of loyalty. Take the Platinum Chip and go to Cottonwood Cove. You'll have to find some way of gaining entrance to the Fort from there, but persuasion seems to be a strength of yours."

"I've already gained access to the Fort. Seems like I'm gaining fans everywhere I go."

"I'm not surprised. You're the first person to enter this casino in over a century. Nonetheless, this will save you some time. You'll find a derelict weather station atop Fortification Hill. I want you to open a hatch in the basement there - you'll recognise it on sight. It can only be opened with the Platinum Chip. I won't tell you what you'll find in there; it would spoil the surprise. But don't dally, courier. Those Securitrons you saw upgraded are only a fraction of what this next mission will promise."

"I'll head out first thing tomorrow."

* * *

><p>"You have it?" Veronica asked, practically bouncing along the New Vegas Strip. "The Platinum Chip?"<p>

"Sure do," she confirmed. "Looks like House's army is waiting for us at the Fort."

"Wow. It's great that he trusts you that much, no matter what you plan on doing next."

She raised an eyebrow. "Right."

Sunny stretched out her arms and released a wide yawn. "I can't talk about war plans right now. I'm exhausted."

"Same here, blondie," Cass agreed. "That journey has me beat. And starving."

"Alright, alright," Brianna relented. "But I'm not sleeping in that vault again."

"Ultra Luxe?" Veronica suggested, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "White dresses, weird masks, possible cannibalism?"

"I'm always up for something new."


	28. Beyond the Beef

**THE ULTRA LUXE**

**JULY 25**

**20:17**

"I'd say there's about an eighty percent chance," Veronica decided, looking accusingly down at her half-eaten steak.

Cass shrugged. "Tastes like brahmin to me."

"Maybe they taste the same," she replied, lowering her voice to a solemn whisper. "Maybe you'd never know the difference."

Brianna offered no response, shovelling another lump of steak into her mouth. Human flesh or not, the food tasted amazing. Expensive, perhaps, but when the waiter arrived with a huge plate of steaming meat and vegetables, her stomach assured her that everything would be just fine. Besides, Veronica had insisted on buying rooms first so they could get 'all dressed up' for the meal. It took a lot of energy to deal with the scribe's incessant fussing over her hair, make-up, shoes, stomach, legs, and every other goddamn thing that could be wrong with a person.

There was also the scenery to enjoy. The Ultra Luxe was gorgeous, all white-tiled floors and lavish furniture. Every tile had been meticulously scrubbed to shining perfection, every painting displayed in perfectly straight mahogany frames. But the dining area had outdone every other room so far. White marble pillars stood firmly on either side of the steps, positioned opposite each other and leading down to the lowered dining area. The tiles were black and white like a chessboard, with every table serving as a strategically placed piece. A round table stood at each corner while the longer rectangular ones stood in the centre of the room.

"Alright, but what's with the masks?" Brianna wondered from behind a mouthful of mashed potato, glancing suspiciously at the waiters as they glided about the room. They were all scarily uniform in attire - black jacket, white shirt, black bow tie, and not a thing out of place. The women were identifiable by their long white dresses, which made Veronica squeal with delight. And, of course, there were the masks. They were white from the nose down, the upper half decorated with swirling gold patterns to match the thick outline of their lips. Only their foreheads were left exposed, their eyes peering out from behind neatly cut holes. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Those things hit her right in the uncanny valley.

"Maybe they're ghouls?" Sunny guessed. "You wouldn't know, right? They've all got gloves on, too."

"You can tell from the voices, though. And they can't _all_ have something wrong with their faces, right?"

Her companions murmured their agreement.

Brianna drained the rest of her Nuka Cola, shuddering with satisfaction at the icy refreshment. "I met a cannibal once. A bunch of 'em, actually."

"Bullshit," Cass accused.

"No, seriously. My parents settled in Arefu, back in the Capital, remember? The place is guarded by these guys who drink human blood."

Sunny shot her a look of concern. "You're letting your family live with vampires?"

"They're not that bad. A few of 'em were kinda hot."

"Hey, you only have the hots for me now," she scolded. "No vampire girls allowed."

"None at all? Sorry, I don't this relationship is gonna-" She paused after spotting the wide-eyed look of astonishment plastered across Veronica's face.

Cass reached over to close her open mouth. "Everythin' alright there, Vee? Looks like you're havin' a religious experience."

Brianna turned in her seat to follow Veronica's gaze. She watched as a suited man stepped in, ushered by a waiter who held the door. When the man stepped aside, she knew it wasn't Jesus Veronica was seeing, but something straight from Heaven nonetheless. She was stunning. From the centre table, Brianna had a clear view of the woman's beaming face and golden hair, curled in soft waves that fell down her back. And her _dress. _The material must have been silk or satin or something just as rare and wonderful. It fell in a cascade of glowing white fabric, pooling along the tiled floor and shimmering beneath the lights overhead.

"It's a wedding dress!" Veronica squeaked.

Brianna rolled her eyes, shoving the last morsel of food into her mouth as she got to her feet. "That's our cue to leave, right?"

"Oh, it's perfectly fine!" Came a voice from behind her. She turned to see the blonde woman flitting towards her, a hundred-watt smile plastered across her glowing face. "This is just- oh, it's the happiest day of my life! I'd like to share it with as many people as I can!" She glanced over her shoulder. "My husband is just sorting out a few arrangements for our honeymoon!" She gushed. "It's all last-minute planning, I know, but we were thinking maybe Italy or France? It's all gonna be a big surprise! Isn't it great?"

"Yeah, wonderful," she replied. "What's an Italy?"

"Oh, you're funny!" She giggled. "I heard it's lovely this time of year. Have you been?"

"Are you on Jet?"

"Jet? Oh, no, we're going to _sail_ there! Can you imagine it? On one of those huge boats with the-"

"I'm very sorry," came another voice. It belonged to a man this time, young and bearded and admittedly gorgeous in his tuxedo. His eyes flickered nervously from Brianna to his bride. With a lowered voice, he explained, "She means well, she really does. I was hoping she wouldn't do this, not now. Not on our wedding night." He shook himself. "I'll just take her up to bed, talk to her for a bit." He took his wife gently by the arm. "Come on, dear. Let's go upstairs for some private time."

She gave him an adoring smile. "Of course, darling."

* * *

><p>"What are you gonna do?" Sunny mumbled sleepily, reaching out for Brianna's hand.<p>

Their fingers intertwined. Brianna nuzzled her head deeper into the pillow. "I don't know," she admitted. "Do you think Veronica's right?"

"I don't want to see you get hurt, you know that."

"And if I was an indestructible death machine - which I am - what would you say?"

"I would say that I like you being all snuggly and safe and here for me to cuddle."

"Snuggly and safe won't win the war, Sunny."

"I know," she sighed. "I know. I want to trust him, I do, but after he gets what he wants, what's left for you? I'm afraid he'll leave you behind."

"That's exactly what it is, isn't it? I _want _to help House, but that doesn't matter when I know he'll kill me if I change my mind. I feel like everything's changed, like I've changed. I miss having a little agency of my own, a little control. I want to be more than a puppet on strings. If this goes bad, if House decides he doesn't need me anymore, what do I do?"

"Well, I think you should get as many people on your side as possible. Do what you did with the Boomers and make people fight for _you. _Some people will be rooting for House, some people might even want you ruling Vegas, or at least someone they can trust. Who knows? The important thing is that they're ready to fight for the person who's going to help them the most, and that they trust you enough to make that decision."

"Yeah. I think you're right."

Sunny wriggled closer. "Would you hate me if I said I was rooting for House? I'm as scared as you are of him stabbing you in the back, but if he doesn't-" She paused. "He trusts you, he really does. It's hard to tell what he'll do with you after this is all done, but he just seems like the right decision, you know? I always supported the NCR, ever since I was old enough to know what that meant, but I'm not sure if they're enough. They're not ready to let go of the Old World. I'm not sure I am either."

"You don't have to let go. You just have to move on."

"I know. It's weird, though. I never grew up back then, I never knew what it was like. But I miss it somehow. Thinking about it makes me homesick."

"I get it. And I think you're right. Yes Man's just a pipe dream, just a fantasy. I can't lead a war, Sunny. Not on my own."

"Then it's lucky you aren't on your own," she smiled. "I'm with you, no matter what. Unless you decide to opt for the Legion. Then I'm out."

"The White Glove Society could be good allies. I should let them know that I'm working for House, let them know that they can trust me."

"Because you are such a trustworthy person," Sunny teased._  
><em>

"The Strip is crawling with hot, _tall, _sexy women," she reminded her. "And I'm lying in bed with you."

Sunny pouted. "What's wrong with me?"

"You're alright, I guess. Short, annoying, nothing spe-"

Sunny kissed her to keep her quiet. "You'd be lost without me."

She smiled. "Yeah. I would."

* * *

><p>Business. That's what this was. It was in the way she walked, in the way she lifted her head. Even with her weapons confiscated by the man at the front desk, she felt powerful. Or at least, that's what she told herself. She couldn't remember what power felt like now. Had she ever really known? It didn't matter. She was awake, alert, ready to let these people know where she stood in House's game. She could be herself again, if she tried. She could be dangerous, cold. She could be hell in steel boots.<p>

Or maybe she was still a girl on strings.

She sauntered towards the front desk where a man gazed around the room, his tongue flicking out occasionally to brush against his pale lips. The white powder on his face did little for the defined marks of age along his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and arching across his mouth and forehead. His moustache was neatly trimmed, his hair carefully styled. He was just another nobody in a suit, and all she had to do was give him information. She'd already gained notoriety in Vegas; he would know who she was.

"You must be Mortimer."

He acknowledged her with a courteous nod, eyes running up her body and stopping at her face. "And you must be Courier Six."

"I am."

"I've heard plenty about you."

"All good things?"

"All interesting." His smile was thin, not quite reaching his eyes. "You're an acquaintance of Mr. House."

"You could say that."

"He's an intelligent man. You must be a trustworthy woman to be working for him."

"I am."

"Good." He leaned closer towards her, sweeping the room with his eyes before continuing, "How long are you planning to stay here, Courier?"

"That depends. What do you want?"

"Someone who can do a job for me. Someone as willing and capable as you have made yourself out to be."

"Why would I do anything for you?"

"Mr. House is our common ally. The White Glove Society wouldn't be what they are today without his aid. We've taken a keen interest in you. We want to know who you are, what you're capable of, what your motives are. I'm sure you aren't aiding House just for fun. What is it you want, really?"

"What I want right now are allies. I want people to trust Courier Six just as much as they do Mr. House. I need people who would trust me enough to lead them if House was out of the picture."

"Are you mad?" He hissed. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing at all. I just want to know if your loyalty lies strictly with Mr. House, or with someone who could potentially do better."

"And you think you're that person?"

"Maybe I am."

"Prove it."

"And now we've come full circle," she smiled. "What do you want?"

"You saw the bride last night, I presume?"

"Couldn't miss her."

"Good. The woman disappeared, I'm afraid, and her husband is throwing an unholy fit. From what I've gathered she seemed-"

"Delusional?"

"Precisely. I'm sure she wandered off somewhere, found herself in another casino and thought she was in France. I'm not asking you to start-up a full-scale investigation; all I ask is that you look for her, ask around. The husband, Mr. Rozero, has been trying to interrogate my customers, as well as members of the Society. As I'm sure you can imagine, he's not improving business."

"What should I do?"

"Calm him down enough so that he'll look for his bride elsewhere, where he will be more likely to find her. Ask questions - preferably in a civilised manner - and pretend you're looking for her. You're a popular name around here. He'll feel more assured if you are the one asking the questions, don't you think? It won't take long, I promise you. And once you've proven yourself capable of such a task, my Society will be very much open to whatever you have planned with Mr. House."

"Sounds like a deal."

* * *

><p>By the time her companions had finished breakfast, Brianna had interrogated eight members of staff and a handful of customers. That left her with about twenty near-identical stories. They'd watched the bride enter the gambling hall or the gourmand. Some of them had stayed for the party. They'd watched the couple go upstairs, and what they'd done up there was 'best left to the imagination'. Nobody had seen the bride that morning, and none of them had provided Brianna with any reason to stay longer at the Ultra Luxe.<p>

The woman had simply disappeared.

She mulled this over on her way to back to the gourmand, munching on a handful of mantis legs she'd lifted from an abandoned plate.

"Brianna!" Sunny called from her table. She got to her feet, shovelling the last piece of her omelette into her mouth as she did so. Brianna spotted Cheyenne lazing beneath the table, her tail flicking absently from side to side.

"How'd it go?" She asked. "Are the White Gloves catering to your every need yet?"

"Not yet," she replied, appropriating Sunny's abandoned chair. "We're playing detective first."

She sat herself down next to Veronica and Cass, explaining her situation. "The whole thing's weird, though," she concluded. "Someone would've spotted her wandering off, right?"

"Assuming she really did wander off," Veronica added, keeping her voice low.

"All we have to do is tell the lucky groom that his bride fucked off somewhere," Cass said. "Then we can get a move on, right?"

"No," Sunny replied, shooting her an angered glare. "We can't just drop the whole thing. What about the bride?"

"The bride was nuts."

_"Was? _Are you just assuming she's dead already?" She gave an incredulous huff. "How about we check on the poor guy, at least?"

Cass gave an ambivalent shrug. "Go ahead."

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for them to find out the couple's room number. Mortimer had directed them to the woman at the front desk, Marjorie, who eyed them up and down with disgust before giving them the number 423. One man in a suit made a passing remark about Scooby Doo as they headed up the stairs, a comparison that made only Brianna and Veronica laugh. Cass looked at them like they were crazy, even after Brianna explained that pre-war holotapes still existed, and not all of them were about the war. Kid's shows were very much alive in the wasteland if you knew where to find them.<p>

"So, let's say they _are_ cannibals," Veronica began as they searched for the right room, "and they _did_ eat the bride."

"And Mortimer sent me out to find her because that would make complete sense," Brianna said, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe he's trying to get us into room 423 so he can kill us and serve us up with mashed potatoes."

"Ruh-roh!" She said, unable to prevent her collapse into childish sniggers. Veronica joined her.

Sunny shrugged. "Having your body turned into a delicious, edible work of art? I think I could live with that."

Cass looked sceptical. "You could live with being eaten?"

"Well, I don't _want _to be. I'm just saying, it wouldn't be the worst thing ever."

"You're not a vorarephile, right?"

"A what?"

"Nothing. But you'd be shit," she pointed out. "Eventually, you'd be literal shit. Coming out of someone."

She scrunched up her nose in a way that was so damn cute it made Brianna look away. "That's gross."

"That's what I thought."

"423!" Veronica announced triumphantly, stopping in front of the door. "I'll stand guard in case we run into any cannibals."

"I appreciate it," Brianna replied, knocking on the door. It cracked open. She frowned, pushing it further and peering inside.

"Everything alright?" Someone asked after a moment of silence. She didn't reply. She barely heard the question until it was asked again. "Brianna? Is everything okay?"

She shook her head weakly and exhaled a shaky curse because no, everything was not okay because the groom was dead.

He hadn't changed out of his tuxedo. It was wrinkled, as if he'd slept in it overnight. His body was crumpled on the carpeted floor in front of his unmade bed. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, staring hopelessly at the tiles. Blood oozed from a wound on the side of his head and pooled on the floor like his wife's wedding dress.

"Told you," Veronica said, without humour. "They ate the bride."

Brianna gritted her teeth as the world refocused. She shook her head, denying this, denying everything that was in front of her, telling it _no._ "Bullshit," she hissed, forcing herself past the door frame and finally entering the room. "Bullshit!" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Is nothing fucking easy in this cesspool of a fucking place?! Can't we just have _one _couple who live long and happy lives without getting kidnapped and eaten?!"

"Brianna!" Sunny yelled, pushing past Cass and Veronica. "We don't know what happened, alright?! Calm down!"

"Calm down?!" She gestured frantically to the rotting corpse. "Sunny-? What the fuck?"

"Let's just figure this out, alright?! We're drawing enough attention to ourselves as it is!"

"She's right," Cass agreed, following Veronica into the room and shutting the door behind her. "We're in the frying pan already, Bree."

Veronica looked at her oddly. "Was that a cannibal pun?"

Brianna ignored them. Her heart was racing, her fingers drumming incessantly against her thigh. What was this? Had Mortimer sent her up here just to scare her away? Why bother? She was just about to leave anyway, right before he'd even mentioned the bride, right before she even mentioned taking House out of the picture and-

Oh.

That made sense.

"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck, that makes so much sense."

"What does?" Cass asked.

"Mortimer, he- I gave him the impression that I was working against House, or thinking about it. So the bride's already missing, he sends me out on a fake investigation, sends me to the husband's room to find his corpse..."

And that was that. She could find no answers there, because none of this made any sense.

"He can't be trying to kill you," Veronica said. "Bad for business, right?"

"I don't know, I-"_  
><em>

"Look." Sunny bent down next to the corpse, stopping for a moment before carefully pulling back the fingers of its right hand. After a moment, she rose to her feet. Something was scrunched in her fist. Paper. It was a clue, Brianna realised, like something out of those cheesy detective movies. Sunny flattened it, her eyes scanning the words. "Steam room," she read. "Four o' clock."

Brianna threw her hands up in despair. "Murder mystery! I called it!"

"What time is it now?" Cass asked.

"Two."

"Two? How the hell are we supposed to survive 'til four? We gonna do something about this or walk away?"

"I can't just walk away, you know I can't."

"Why? Are _you _a vorarephile?"

"What the _fuck _is a vorarephile?!"

"You know what a vorarephile is, Brianna? It's someone who creams their panties at the thought of being eaten alive!"

Veronica shrugged. "I've seen worse."

The group looked at her.

"I mean, I've heard of worse. I don't think this is the time to be discussing fetishes."_  
><em>

"Fuck this," Brianna decided, "I'm talking to House. I'm gonna let him tell me what to do so I don't have to feel responsible if we get eaten."

"Isn't being his lapdog what I told you not to do?" Cass snapped.

"Are none of you getting this? Trying to go against him is the reason we're in this mess. And he's technically my boss."

"Make up your mind about the guy, Jesus. And what do we do in the mean time?"

"Nothing. You were never with me. You let me play detective while you went up to your rooms and packed your things."

"What things?"

"I don't know! Don't leave this place unless you have to. It'll look weird if you leave and come back again with me, right? Pretend you don't know anything."

"And how are you getting out?"

* * *

><p>"I- I didn't know," she whimpered. "I was being stupid, okay? I couldn't kill him. How could I? It was just some stupid idea, just to see what would happen. What you did to that man, I- I won't tell. I promise. I swear! Just please, please don't hurt me."<p>

Mortimer studied her face for a moment in silence. "You were a fool," he agreed. "And Mr. House was a fool to employ you."

"I know," she sobbed. "I got stupid and greedy and I just needed the money, okay? To get back to Reno, back home to my mom and dad and away from all this. I thought if- if I killed House-"

"You thought everything would work out that easily, did you?"

"No, I- I can't negotiate, I can't persuade people, I can't even make friends."

"And what of the women with you?"

"Bodyguards. Because I'm rich now, right? I can afford to buy my own company. I'm sorry. I can't do this. I know you wanted me out of the picture because I said those dumb things about- about Mr. House, but I _can't!" _She wailed. "I'm sorry. I can't do it. I'm just gonna go home. I'm just gonna go home before I get someone else hurt."

"And what of those girls?"

"They can stay. They can do whatever they want. D-did you see the- the blonde one? Her hand? I did that. It was an accident- I didn't mean for her to get hurt, but I didn't know what I was doing and I- I-" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "The whole thing was just an act. I just- I wanted to know what it felt like. To be strong, for once, after I- after I got shot."

"It's alright, dear," he said coolly. "Run on home, there's no place for you here. I'm sure you know that the next time you try something as silly as this, another person will get hurt. Understand?"

"Y- yes. I'm so sorry."

* * *

><p>"Cannibalism? In one of <em>my <em>casinos?!"

"That's what it looks like. We've got one dead groom on our hands, one missing bride, and a murderous maître d'."

"Hm. This will hinder your progress significantly, and I need you at Fortification Hill as soon as possible. But that cannot be helped, I suppose. Investigate. Go to the steam room at four o' clock as the note says. I assume you'll find someone there with more information."

"If he's still alive."

"Indeed."

"And if they really are cannibals, then what?"

"I trust you'll do what is necessary, even though you're lying to me."

"Hold on- what?"

"It's strange that Mortimer would want you dead, Miss O'Reilly. What did you say to him? What did you do?"

"I've got a girlfriend now. Maybe he's jealous."

"I should hope that's all it is."

* * *

><p>The stream room did not look like a place where anyone would want to spill blood. Pristine white tiles glistened wetly at her feet and warm steam caressed her bare skin, covered only by the two-piece bathing suit she'd purchased from the tailor's above. The ceiling glittered like a night sky, made from deep blue tiles with tiny white lights sparkling down on the pool below. Guests and White Gloves alike all lay by the pool's edge with glasses of wine in hand. Some drifted lazily in the water, looking almost like they were floating on steamy clouds.<p>

She gave the pool a wistful glance before heading through the opposite door. She was greeted by a wave of heat, urging her eyelids to fall shut and her muscles to relax. She continued on towards the door ahead, shoebox-sized and warmer than the room previous. The air was foggy and damp. She took a seat next to the only man there - dark-skinned, shaved head, a bottle of wine in hand. He was wearing a suit despite the languorous heat, but he'd set his shoes and socks on the floor and taken off his white blazer. Sweat was dripping down his face. His hands clenched into fists at his lap as he watched her from the corner of his eye.

"He's dead."

"He's-? You mean-?" She could almost sense the blood rushing from his face. "This can't be happening. It can't be."

"What's going on?" She asked, keeping her voice low. "What were you supposed to discuss here?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I want to help. I'm investigating on behalf of Mr. House."

"You-?" Realisation dawned on his face. She could feel him relax, just slightly. "You're Courier Six."

"I'm nobody," she replied. "We don't know each other, not here. Now tell me what you were doing with Mr. Rozero."

"No. I can't. It's too dangerous."

"Why?"

"They killed him. They must have known he was talking to someone on the inside. They'll be watching everyone closer now. I knew this was a mistake!"

"What's your name?"

"Ch- Chauncey."

"Listen to me, Chauncey. I can end this. I can fix things if I have the right information."

"You think so?"

"Yes. But only if you tell me everything. _Everything," _she stressed. "Who's behind that woman's disappearance?"

"It's Mortimer, all of it. He and some of the others have gone back to the old ways, before we were the White Glove Society. He's been taking people. But only from secluded places. P- prostitutes and junkies, people who wouldn't be missed. But it wasn't enough. Lately they've been going for tourists on the Strip, and now-" He choked back a sob. "The last one was taken a few days ago, some cattle rancher's kid. It was risky, even for Mortimer. They had one of our own stage a fake investigation under another name. It took three days for the father to leave the Strip again and go looking elsewhere. The kidnappings are more frequent now."

"How do you know all this?" She pressed. "Why are they letting you know all this?"_  
><em>

"Because I distracted that kid's father while they took him!" He blurted. The look of loathing on Brianna's face made him shrink back from her. "I'm not proud of it, I swear, but I had to. They could see I was having second thoughts. Some of the White Gloves started meeting privately a while back, talking about changing our policies. I started attending because I thought it was about changing our politics, but then they started talking about reverting to the old ways and there was no way out from there. They'd kill me for the some of the things I heard them say."

"Alright. What about the bride? Do you know where she is?"

"I don't know for certain, but you can bet they're keeping her nice and fresh. She's probably in the kitchens. You can get there by heading to the gourmand and getting through the door past the front desk. I don't how you'll manage it, but you can try." His words were falling past his lips in a hurried jumble, growing more panicked with every stutter. "Our chef, Philippe, he's obsessed with fresh ingredients.

"You think she's still alive?"

"As far as I know, yes. Mortimer has special plans for her."

"What kind of plans?"

"The Society has a special banquet every night at seven, no outsiders allowed. They restrict access to the dining room, just keep a few guards around to watch the casino. Mortimer wants to reintroduce humans to our cuisine by doing it in secret. He just has to get them past the taboo without their knowledge, and once the meal is over, he'll tell them. He'll make sure that his trusted members encourage the others to accept it after that. And since nothing is more important to them than being on the cutting edge of New Vegas cuisine, they'll accept it easily."

"Okay, so how do I stop this?"

"You'd have to expose Mortimer. But if he's going to confess anyway, then you'll have to make sure that they never ate human flesh after all."

"Sure. I'll just sneak into the kitchens, knock out the chef, and whip up a convincing human flesh substitute."

"Actually, that might just work."

"Huh?"

"No, really." He turned to face her. "Philippe has been perfecting a convincing substitute for years. He says it'll make up for the days where we simply can't find anyone to steal. If you could get the recipe somehow..." He took a short sip from his bottle. "Look, I know it's a long shot, but-"

A gunshot cut through his next word and Chauncey's head slammed back against the tiles.


	29. Bleed Me Dry

**THE ULTRA LUXE**

**JULY 26**

**16:03**

The wine bottle clattered to the floor. Brianna jumped back from the jerking corpse and pressed herself tight against the wall. Sweat plastered her forehead. Her breathing was weak and ragged. She screwed her eyes shut and pulled herself together, shaking off the fear in her bones. Her informant was dead and her life was at stake, and Brianna O'Reilly had no intention of becoming the White Glove Society's next victim. She wouldn't let fear shut her down anymore. She would let it wake her up. She reached for the wine bottle and held it by the neck. Slowly, carefully, she moved for the opposite wall by the door. She could almost hear the gunman's heartbeat as he waited for her to make a move. He must be revelling in it, she thought, reaching down and closing her hand around the thing at her feet. The thrill, the anticipation, that's what he wanted, that's why he was waiting.

Brianna stepped in front of the door and hurled Chauncey's shoe at the gunman's face.

She was on him in an instant. The force of the polished-black projectile knocked him back and threw off his aim. The first inaudible gunshot went wide as she swung at him with the bottle, missing his face by centimetres. He backed up. She pursued. The gunman fired again, but their proximity to each other was almost intimate. She easily wrenched his arm away, driving her foot into his crotch and swinging the bottle against his head. He fell back against the wall as silver and crimson splashed the tiles. Her arms were soaked in wine and fragments of the bottleneck were stuck in her skin. One large chunk of glass was lodged right between her thumb and forefinger.

The hitman grabbed her arm and twisted it around, slamming his gun across her face and throwing her back. The tiles rushed up to support her. She scrambled away as a bullet whizzed past her ear. Brianna barrelled into the gunman and threw a punch at his nose. He raised his pistol to fire. She dug her nails into his arm, twisting away his aim before sinking her teeth into his wrist. Skin split and vessels burst and blood oozed down her throat as the gunman's legs buckled beneath her. She forced him back and back and back against the wall, closed her hands around his throat, felt the glass shard piercing through layers of his flesh. Weak with pain and exhaustion, it was all she could do to keep herself upright as she loosened her grip. Blood gurgled from the carving in his neck, spilling down her bare skin in desperate pulses.

Brianna smiled a crimson smile as the body fell to the floor.

* * *

><p><em>Knock-knock-knock.<em>

"Room service!"

There was a loud thump from behind the door, followed by Veronica's voice. "Uh, just a second."

It opened with a click of the lock. Brianna stepped inside, dropping her bathrobe and tracking crimson footsteps across the otherwise spotless white carpet.

"Jesus Christ!" Cass exclaimed, leaping off the bed and hurrying towards her. "What the _fuck _happened to you?"

"Long story, Cass."

"Jesus Christ," she repeated, looking her friend up and down before meeting her eyes again. "We're in worse shit than we know, aren't we?"

She pulled a face and gestured down at herself, still covered in drying blood and tasting it in her mouth. The hazy steam of the pool room had kept her appearance obscured long enough to find a fluffy white bathrobe on one of the benches and wrap it around herself, but getting up to the suite had been a nightmare. She'd spent over ten minutes skirting past White Gloves, whizzing around corners and taking wrong turns to throw off people she suspected of following her. But regardless of her success, they were running out of time. She'd left two bodies behind in the steam room, that was something that wouldn't go unnoticed for long.

Sunny stepped out of the bathroom and froze.

"Oh my god!" She gasped, rushing to Brianna's side. "Are you hurt? What happened? Whose blood is that?!"

"A hitman's," she said, sitting down on the bed. "I found Mr. Rozero's informant in the steam room, but they were already onto him. Jesus, I-" She gave herself a moment to breathe, but her lungs weren't filling and her head was growing dizzy. "He's dead. I killed him. But he shot the informant first and someone's gonna find those bodies soon. Mortimer, he'll know it was me. He'll know it was me or one of us and he'll come after us." She stared blankly at the blood on her hands, at the glittering glass shards embedded in them. One by one, she began to pull them out. "We have to do something."

"Why?" Came Veronica's voice from the doorway of the bathroom. "Will House kill you we don't, is that it?"

She got to her feet. "Is that all your concerned about?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought we might be able to fend off our own damn cannibals without it being House's orders."

"You know what, Veronica? I know exactly what my problem is with you."

She stepped further into the room. "Enlighten me."

"You think this is all some kind of game. You think this is easy, you think that I'm coping with this, you think you can just move me around like a piece on a board game because that is _all this is _to you. And I get it. I really do. I understand how easy it is to pretend that this is all just fun and games when you aren't the one in the centre of it all, when you aren't the one making the decisions, when you aren't the one risking your life, running through fire, getting covered in someone else's blood! Listen to me." She closed in on the scribe until she was forced to back up against the bathroom door. "You've been living in a hole in the ground all your life, Veronica, that's what your problem is. Everything you know about the world, that all comes straight from a book. You're a disillusioned idealist who doesn't understand that actions have consequences, so let me give you a little example. Today, I hinted to an influential figure on the New Vegas Strip that there is the _slightest _chance of me getting rid of Mr. House. As a result, I had to fight off a hitman with nothing but a wine bottle and a pair of shoes, and no, it's not as funny as it sounds. I almost _died _and we're still not out of danger, _that's _what consequences are!"

Veronica took a few steps forward, forcing Brianna back. "What do you want from this, Brianna? Why are you helping this guy? Why are you fetching newspapers like some kind of lapdog when you could be changing the world? What the hell is making you so afraid?"

She laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls without humour, without remorse. "You think I'm afraid? Bullshit. You're terrified, Veronica, and I know exactly why. You're scared that Mr. House wants the Brotherhood of Steel gone. Well, you know what? They're dead, Veronica. I know people who have never even _heard _of them. They're dying. They're _dying _and you know that there is _nothing _you can do about it. I've known that for a while now, but I kept quiet because I know what it's like to be afraid. We all know what it's like to be scared for our families, it drives people insane. The uncertainty, the guilt, the helplessness of not being able to save people, I know exactly how that feels. But that doesn't excuse a goddamn thing you do! You act like I'm the one without feelings, you act like _I'm _the merciless killer who doesn't bat an eye no matter what she's made to do, but I would _never _tell you to risk your life, to risk your friends' lives, to risk the lives of thousands of people just to make me feel safe! How could you possibly expect that of me? What the hell do you think I am?!"

"A good person! Maybe that's why I expect so much. You're a hero, Brianna, just like Sunny said. You're the type of crazy wastelander who always makes the news, you're the people who charge into raider's dens with a shotgun and a plan, you're the action girl who knows exactly where to go, what to do, you're the woman who walks like she's holding the world in the palm of her hand. That's something I look up to, something I trust."

"Something that's not real."

"I know." She paused for a moment. "I know. You're just as stupid and scared as the rest of us, but it's hard for me to accept that. When I watch you strolling through a bombardment or raising a bomber from the bottom of a lake, it's hard not to build you up into something that's more than a person. A metaphor is a medicine that goes down easy. And I'm sorry. I really am. It's just- it's comforting to believe that I've got a person at my side who believes in everything I do, even if you don't. I just really, really want this, Brianna. We have the robot, we have the Chip, everything I've ever dreamed of is just _right there _and I can't have it. How do I make that okay? How do I make myself believe that all of this is gonna work out for the best?"

"By having a little faith in me, for a start. Maybe by asking me to tell my boss not to murder your entire family? I can do that, you know, it's not like he can replace me or anything. Look, Veronica, I know how much you want Yes Man to be something more, something real, but you need to stop glorifying this Courier Six you've built up in your head, and you need to realise that I'm doing the best I can with everything I have. I'm sorry, but you can't stick around if you're gonna keep this up."

"Sounds like the ending of most of my relationships," she figured, looking glum for a moment before a sudden thought made her smile. "But taking down a bunch of upper-class cannibals and rescuing a bride from a bloody fate is never a bad way to spice things up, right? I'll get myself together in the meantime, promise. But we're kind of running out of time right now."

"Wow, you sound like you've actually got a plan."

"Well, kind of." She sat herself down on the bed. "I only added to Sunny's idea about using the corpses in the bathtub."

"White Gloves," Cass elaborated before Brianna could ask. "Barged in here with masks and canes like it was herding day at the brahmin ranch. Took ten minutes before Vee got outta the shower and gave us a helping hand. And just for the record: it's nice hearing my own voice when you fuckheads aren't screaming at each other."

"We're fine, though," Sunny assured her. "Just a few cuts and bruises. Cass strangled one of them with a towel, I bashed a woman's head into the sink and Veronica introduced them to her Power Fist, it was fine. And Cheyenne helped too, didn't you, baby?" She gave the dog a loving squeeze. "So three White Glove ladies and one guy means three White Glove dresses and more than enough creepy masks to spare. I was thinking that if three of us got all dressed up and one of us acted as a substitute for the bride, it could work. They'd let us into the kitchens, I mean. Those women were pretty tall, so I guess I've gotta be the substitute. I'll just get depressed trying to fit into those dresses."

"That's the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard," Brianna replied.

"But ragtag bunches of misfits are great at coming up with plans so stupid they just might work," Sunny grinned.

* * *

><p>Veronica seemed to be the only one having fun. After single-handedly undressing the female corpses and cleaning up their outfits, she really got to work. She fixed up every dress so that they fit tightly around the bodice without any sagging or discomfort. She fussed over her own hair for a while before pinning up Cass' in an elegant twist and brushing Brianna's until it shone. Sunny, on the other hand, was dressed up in a pair of heels and Brianna's black dress. After she'd had a comb dragged upwards through her hair and a splash of dark make-up applied to her face, Sunny Stripper made for a very convincing prostitute.<p>

By the time they reached the casino, guests were already beginning to clear out. They walked downstairs separately and met up outside the gourmand, finding it mostly empty aside from a few White Gloves dotted about. One more stood behind the counter, storing wine bottles in the fridge. He didn't react to the newcomers until they approached his bar.

"And where do you think you're going?" He asked, eyeing Sunny up and down before continuing in a hushed voice, "Is this the newest addition to tonight's meal?"

"Dessert," Brianna confirmed.

"I can see why. A certain supple quality to the skin, isn't there? Firm breast, ample thighs, yes, that should do nicely. Go on ahead."

He shut the door behind them as they made their way down the corridor, not daring to speak in case another White Glove was lurking around the corner.

As it turned out, there were two of them. The next room was illuminated by two roaring streams of fire as a couple of White Gloves manually roasted giant slabs of brahmin meat. They slipped by unnoticed, descending the staircase to their right before finding themselves in another long corridor. A White Glove was just ahead, his outline clearly visible as he made his way down the hall towards them.

"You!" He called, quickening his pace to meet them. "What are you all doing down here?!"

"P- please," Sunny croaked, squirming against her captors. "Help me, please, you- you have to help me."

Cass tightened the grip on her wrist. "Didn't anyone tell you? Mortimer ordered dessert."

"And you decided to bring her in fully conscious?"

"The cook likes his meat fresh, doesn't he?" Veronica replied.

He didn't look convinced. "I trust nobody saw you."

"Not a soul."

"Hm. Very well. Just remember that all of our necks are at stake if this goes awry. Be on your way, then."

"Oh, could you direct us to the kitchens first?"

"Do you mean to say that you haven't done anything like this before?"

"We're running on a very strict schedule," Brianna pressed. "We don't have time to dawdle."

"Fine. It's the nearest door to your left," he said, continuing on past them without another word.

"Dawdle?" Veronica whispered, moving for the door. "Really?"

"We're all weirdly good liars and none of us are in any position to judge each other," Sunny pointed out.

They all murmured in agreement as they entered the kitchen. A wedding dress lay draped across the counter. There was no chef in sight until they checked the room ahead, a larger kitchen this time with two worktops, two ovens and a pristine white fridge. Small pieces of notebook paper took up most of the space on the wall above the counters. A terminal was wired into the adjacent wall, right next to an open pantry. And there stood the gourmet, maskless and humming softly to himself as he chopped carrots.

Veronica pointedly cleared her throat. The gourmet spun around, slamming his knife down on the counter.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He snapped. "Why are you all standing still?! Do you think the world waits for you while you stand there drooling? Do you think Mortimer will be pleased when his food is two hours late? _And why are you dragging that filth into my kitchen?!"_

"I think you have us confused with someone else," Veronica guessed, wiping the cook's spit from her face.

"Is that right?" He barked out a laugh. "So despite your dull voice, mutant-like vocabulary and complete lack of human dignity, you're telling me that you're not a-?"

Brianna moved into action, fists clenched.

Veronica screamed.

"There's a rat!" She squealed, jumping back in fright as she pointed frantically at the pantry. "A rat! I just saw it!"

"My ingredients," he whispered, rushing past them and into the pantry, grabbing a knife on his way there. "Where is it?" He cried, just as Veronica strolled towards him and slammed her fist into his temple. She shoved his limp body further into the pantry with her foot before making for the terminal on the wall. After a few cheerful _clicks, _the door slammed shut.

Sunny folded her arms. "I don't look that bad, right?"_  
><em>

"You look beautiful," Brianna promised. "When all this is over, I'll make sure you know it."

"Sounds perfect."

Cass removed her mask. "Best do this quick."

"Right," Brianna agreed, "the bride."

"Probably in the other pantry," Veronica suggested.

"Guess I'll look for the recipe," Cass offered. "You helping, Vee?"

"Already on it."

Brianna made her way towards the terminal behind her and used it to open the door. It swung open with barely a creak. She couldn't see anyone at first, not until she looked down to find a blonde woman curled up between two high shelves. She was clad in bridal lingerie and nothing but, shivering and sobbing. She brushed her hair back from her face, looked up at Brianna, and shrieked.

"Shit." She hastily removed her mask and let it fall behind her. "Hey, it's fine," she said, crouching down to meet the woman's height. "It's okay."

"G- get away from me," she stammered, eyes wide and fearful. Her make-up was running down her face. "Get away!"

"I'm getting you out of here, understand? I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?" She squeaked. "What- what happened? Who put me here?"

"White Gloves," she explained. "They were gonna eat you."

"Eat me?!" She gave a nervous laugh, forcing her voice to steady. "Y- you must be mistaken. I got separated from my husband on the way to the airport. Could you help me get back to him?" She smiled. "I don't want to miss our flight."

"You're crazy. We have to go, right now."

"There's no need to be rude. I just need you to help me to the plane- I'll find my husband there."

"Listen to me, okay? Your husband is dead."_  
><em>

"What? No, no, he's waiting for me, he-"

"He's dead, you idiot! The White Gloves killed him because he was trying to find you! Can you understand that?! They killed him! He's dead!"

"He isn't!" She wailed. "He's at home! We're married, and- and we have children and-"

"Listen to me!" She grabbed her by the shoulders, staring straight into her terrified eyes. "I'm trying to help you, but you have to _listen _to me. There are no airports. There are no honeymoons, no beautiful weddings, there are no Frances and Italies. There are monsters out here. People get killed every single day. There are a lot of murderers in this world, and some of them aren't even bad people. In fact, you're lucky if you meet someone who is _just _a murderer and nothing more. Open your eyes. This is a bad, bad place and people are trying to _eat _you. The same people who killed your husband."

"S- stop!"

"But we can do something about that. We can end this. We can take down the people who did this to you, avenge your husband if that's what you want."

"I- I want to," she whimpered. "Help me."

Brianna got to her feet and offered the bride a hand. She took it, pulling herself up and wrapping her arms around herself. When they left the pantry, Sunny was there to greet her, wedding dress in hand. "Are you okay?" She asked, her features softened with genuine sadness for the broken woman. "This is the only thing we have for you to wear. Sorry, I never thought."

The bride managed a smile. "Thank you," she said, taking the dress. It took her just a moment to put it on, as if she'd done it a hundred times before.

"What's your name?"

"Claire Roz- Bishop. Claire Bishop. N- nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, though I wish it was in better circumstances. I'm Sunny. This is Brianna, Cass, and Veronica," she said, gesturing to them all in turn.

"And I just found the recipe!" Veronica sang.

"Recipe?" Claire asked.

"Convincing human flesh substitute," Cass called from the worktop. "Who woulda thought?"

"Uh, how about I help you get cleaned up?" Sunny offered, putting an arm around her. "Come on."

"Alright," Veronica said, "who's the best cook?"

Cass gave Brianna a knowing look.

"That would be me."

"Brianna O'Reilly can cook? In a way that doesn't involve giving a slab of meat a stern talking to about the harshness of the world before setting it on fire with a flamethrower?"

"Fuck you," she shot back. "I'm gonna cook the best human flesh you've ever tasted."

* * *

><p>"Too much pepper!" Veronica cried, leaning over Brianna's right shoulder as she stood by the oven.<p>

"You're gonna burn it like that," Cass warned, leaning over her left.

"Do you take any medication?" Sunny asked, looking at Claire with motherly concern as the two sat up on the counter.

"Don't forget the carrots," Veronica reminded her.

"And the salt."

"You think it's done?"

"Looks done to me."

"Intercom's over there."

"Should I call the servers?"

"It's almost seven."

"Alright, I'll go."

She headed off to do just that.

"Masks on," Sunny said. Brianna reached for her own and secured it, keeping her eye on the ovens as she did. They'd spent at least an hour cooking the meat, grilling the vegetables, preparing the wine bottles and comforting the traumatized bride, now wearing their leftover mask and dress that Cass had grabbed from upstairs. Now, finally, it was time.

_This is gonna be fucking great._

* * *

><p>The dining hall was a sea of white faces. Every White Glove in the building had already showed up, patiently awaiting the meal. Their excitement was a living thing, buzzing in the walls and deep in Brianna's heart. She stood by the steps above the dining area with Veronica, Cass and Claire at her side. Sunny was waiting in the room behind them. Brianna watched as the servers floated in, balancing trays on their fingertips and walking with their noses high in the air. The food looked incredible. She felt pride swelling in her chest as sliced meat was delivered on sparkling silver platters, with mountains of roast potatoes and grilled vegetables soon arriving to accompany the centrepiece. The servers were well-practised, setting out the food remarkably fast. They were done within half a minute.<p>

Mortimer stepped in.

He strolled calmly past Brianna and found himself a place to the right side of the dining area, standing at the top of the steps. He looked on with a satisfied smile as his Society helped dug into their meal, chattering amongst themselves and gushing about how wonderful it tasted. That only made his smile even wider. He seemed so absorbed in watching the scene below him that he allowed the four mysterious women to stand neatly side-by-side, watching along with him. Brianna almost laughed out loud when he cleared his throat not halfway through the meal, so eager to begin with his announcement that he wouldn't even wait for them to finish.

"If you'll allow me a few words?" He began, looking down at the masks below him.

"There was a time, not long ago, when we all were bound together, not as members of a society, but as a clan. As a family. And when Mr. House came to us with his proposal, we accepted, knowing that we stood to gain much. Little did we know how much we'd lose in the process. As a society, we've endeavoured to sample the finest food and drink the world has to offer. But we are living a lie.

"There is a meat sweeter than most cornfed livestock. Most of you have tasted it. All of you have coveted it. Among us, it is a crime to discuss a return to the old ways that once unified our people. Tonight, that all changes. Tonight, the taboo ends. Now, you don't know it yet, but you are all now guilty of a great crime, one that ordinarily bears the harshest of punishments. Surely that you are all guilty warrants not only universal amnesty, but also a renewed discussion. For our society to be truly elite, we must dine on the most delicious, the most exclusive food known to us. And so tonight, you are sampling that forbidden meat, the way it was meant to be eaten! You are dining... on human flesh."

"Actually," Brianna declared, "that isn't quite true."

She took off her mask. Cass did the same, then Veronica.

Brianna took Claire's hand and together they marched towards Mortimer where everyone could see them.

"Remember the beautiful couple who got married here last night? Remember how they danced and laughed and vowed to spend the rest of their lives together?" She faced her audience with her head held high. "Remember how you killed the groom, Mortimer?!" She cried, her booming voice echoing throughout the room. "Remember how you kidnapped the bride, stripped her down and tried to kill her too?! Well guess what? You did a shitty job!"

Claire took off her mask and tossed it aside.

"Here she is! Here's the woman you tried to eat, you sick fuck!"

"What-?" He gasped. "Impossible!"

The pair laughed triumphantly, holding their hands and heads high. From the corner of her eye, Brianna spotted Sunny slipping in.

She waited for the cheering. She waited for the chaos. She waited for something, anything. And then there was a voice.

"You sabotaged our plan!" A woman cried, throwing herself up from her chair. "You pathetic little bitch!"

"We are a refined society!"

"You know nothing of our ways!"

"You spoiled everything!"

"Filth! Scum! Outsider!"

People were rising from their seats. They were furious. Furious that they had been caught. Furious that their night had been ruined.

Furious that they had not had the chance to taste human flesh.

And then all hell broke loose.

A lump of mashed potato went flying in Brianna's direction. She dodged it just in time for another to hit her upside the face.

She saw Cass sprinting down the stairs, yelling profanities before she picked up a steak and slapped someone across the head with it.

Sunny's eyes were wide as she ran in to rescue her, until a mutfruit was shoved down her dress.

"Down with the cannibals!" Veronica cried, running to join in.

Brianna looked at Claire.

Claire looked at Brianna.

"Down with the cannibals!" They yelled, racing down to take on the White Glove Society.

Everything was a messy blur from then on. There was punching, and lots of it. She grabbed the nearest thing she could find on the table - a thick, greasy blood sausage - and used it to fight off an angry woman with a wine bottle. A hot plate of stew was thrown over her head. Sunny leapt in front of her to take the blow of a large omelette.

Before long, it wasn't just food being thrown. A flying shoe sent someone straight to the ground just as another was hit across the face with a candlestick. They weren't just attacking Brianna and her companions - they were fighting each other. A stray water jug whizzed past Brianna's ear. A woman dripping with wine had a bowl of roast potatoes in hand and was tossing them like frag grenades.

"Fuck you!" Brianna screamed at no one, saving Cass from oncoming punch by dumping a bowl of devilled eggs over someone's head.

Then she was swimming in a sea of black shoes, floating on the blood-splattered tiles beneath her head.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

><p>Silence. Heavy. Ringing. Suffocating.<p>

Fluttering eyelids. Blinded, bleeding. Dying. Wrists bound and burning.

For a moment she was on a hilltop.

And then she opened her eyes and she was sitting at a table.

Her head pounded.

She blinked against the lights overhead.

_What? Where?_

Her thoughts were slow. She was confused by the long table in front of her, before she realised that it was made from three put together.

That thought confused her even more.

She moved to rub her bleary eyes, but found her wrists bound behind her back. Looking down, she saw that her torso was tied similarly to her chair.

It took her a moment to see faces. Cass on her left side, features twisted into a mask of shock and terror.

Mask. She remembered masks. She remembered everything then. The dinner. The fighting. The chaos.

She saw Veronica on her right, eyes fluttering as she came to her senses.

For a moment she didn't recognise the woman next to Cass. And then she did.

The bride. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

It wasn't those faces that brought her to her senses. It was the absence of one.

_Sunny._

Her stomach lurched. She shot upright, frantic now and panicking.

Where was Sunny? Where was Mortimer?

She couldn't breathe.

She heard a low whine from somewhere at her feet.

_Cheyenne._

Cheyenne was here. She saw the dog from beneath the table. They'd found Cheyenne.

"What is this?!" She screamed, struggling against her bonds. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Don't be alarmed."

That voice did not come from her. It was cold. Amused. Mortimer's.

"I've decided to forgive you for your unseemly behaviour earlier."

Her wrists were freed of the ropes that bound them.

"What's going on? What is this?"

"A gesture of forgiveness."

Brianna's vision was blurred at the edges, but she knew that the black and white shapes were White Gloves.

Servers.

"I'll admit, you aren't the most charming guest."

They filed in slowly, one by one.

"But nonetheless, I've decided to invite you for dinner."

They set food out in front of her. Silver platters.

"Just so you can truly understand what you were missing out on."

Meat. On the plate in front of her. In front of Cass, Veronica, Claire.

"So you can truly understand..."

Candles.

"... Just what the White Glove Society is trying to achieve."

Wine bottles.

"Only the finest, most cutting-edge foods are allowed in this hotel."

They untied her wrists.

"And this meat, why, it was perfect."

_What?_

"A certain supple quality to the flesh. Firm breast. Ample thighs."

_No._

"Of course, there were the tattoos."

_No._

"But they were easy to cut away."

_No._

"We kept her awake, of course, to keep her fresh."

_No no no no no no no no no no no._

"And the missing hand was no trouble at all."

_This isn't happening._

"Her heart was just big enough to make up for it."

She was blinded by the tears falling uselessly down her face.

"I hope you understand this situation, Courier."

He was whispering in her ear.

"Eat. Eat it, and you are free to go. Your friends are free to go. Just eat."

_No._

He stepped back.

Smiled.

_"Bon appetit."_

She made a faint gasping noise from deep inside her throat. Every muscle trembled.

She looked at Cass' face. She hadn't seen it like this before. Blank, frozen, a mask of wordless shock.

Veronica mouthed something to herself, the same thing over and over and over again as the bride sobbed.

She took a slice of meat in her hands.

Her stomach heaved. Bile crept up along her throat. She stopped breathing. Closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>"Did you ever think this would happen?"<p>

"Did I ever think I'd wind up lying in bed with the annoying woman from Goodsprings who pressured me into fighting off an armed militia? I gotta admit, it took me a little bit by surprise."

"Can't say I really saw it coming either."

"You trying to say that it wasn't love at first sight?"

"I wouldn't say 'love', exactly. I think 'fear' would be a better word. Fear at first sight."

"... You were afraid of me?"

"Terrified. Intrigued, but terrified. Seeing you lie there on Doc Mitchell's bed was like studying an injured gecko or something. You were all cute and small and in pain, but you probably could've taken my face off if I got too close."

"What changed?"

"Hey, didn't I make a big speech about that earlier? About how I realised that I loved every single crazy thing about you, and how you punched my normal, boring life in the face? Maybe you should start showering _me_ with compliments. Start telling me why you decided to lie in bed with the annoying woman from Goodsprings?"

"Because you're my sunshine."

"Really? Isn't that a little cliché?"

"What do you want me to say? I love your smile, your laugh, and that cute little thing you do with your nose. I like how you stick up for yourself, and for me. And I like how good you are. I love how compassionate and friendly you are, how interesting. There are a million things about you that I still have to figure out. Like how the hell I managed to keep you around."

"Because I'm your sunshine. Sunshine doesn't go away."


	30. One For My Baby

_"No."_

The word left her breathless, sent her spinning into nothing and nowhere.

"It's the only way to stop them," she insisted, not hearing her own words as they spilled past her lips, burning like acid on her tongue. "They're just as bad as him, all of them. They were _angry _when they found out what I'd done. _Angry._ Let me kill them, House! Just let me kill them!"

"You sound like a child, Courier, and children rarely survive in a world such as this. No, you will not kill the White Glove Society. They have proven to be quite the annoyance, even more so than I had originally anticipated, but we have more pressing matters to attend to at Fortification Hill. I would urge you to busy yourself with that. Unless you would like to explain why I see only two of your companions waiting on the casino floor? You mentioned three."

Had she? Had she mentioned her friends at all?

"Because they-" Her voice cracked. "One of them, they-"

She could only muster a broken squeak.

"How inconvenient," House said. "You lost a companion. Though I can't imagine why you're in such a state of shock. People want you dead, Courier. You have an annoying habit of showing your hand, just as I said before. And yet now you simply cannot believe that someone has died thanks to your recklessness. Before you deny it, remember that it was you who first decided to investigate the Ultra Luxe. You asked for my advice only when matters became too difficult for you alone to handle."

"This isn't my fault. It isn't!"

"Must we argue like this? Must I be the father scolding their insolent child? Mortimer wanted you dead only because you were overly confident, parading around his hotel and gushing about how you were going to overthrow me and have New Vegas all to yourself." She could almost feel his anger. "Don't look so surprised. Benny had the technology to do exactly that and now it's in your hands. But I assure you, Miss O'Reilly, not once did I worry that you might make such an attempt, because you're _weak._ You hate being told what to do but you can't function without orders, the perfect mercenary is the one who believes she's acting of her own agency."

"Stop!"

"You threw that woman's life on the line because you thought that _you _were the one in charge! You thought that no harm could ever befall you, not when you had my trust, not when you had some ridiculous sense of security. And now your friend is dead and you need someone to tell you what to do next. So I am telling you, Courier. Go to Fortification Hill and do as you were instructed."

"And what's gonna stop me from overthrowing you? You know I can do it! Why not stop me? Why not kill me?!"

"Oh, do calm yourself. Shall I put this in a way that you will easily understand? Go to Fortification Hill and follow my instructions. In return, I will tell you which slot machine on the casino floor was rigged to produce five thousand bottle caps as your payment. I will also allow you and your companions access to the presidential suite where you will find everything you need for the journey. Food, ammunition, workbenches for weapon upgrades, new armour, clothing, and everything else you could possibly want."

"All I want is her."

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She was done, _done_ with House and New Vegas and everything. She wanted Sunny back. She wouldn't do this anymore. Not anymore. "You know what they did to her?" She asked. Her voice was deathly calm. As she looked up at House's smirking face, she knew that nothing she could say would ever matter. "They skinned her. _Alive. _They left her in a fridge, left her in agony before they ripped off her head and let it rot somewhere. They cut out her heart and served it to me on a silver platter, and then they made me eat it." She swallowed a sob. "So why the hell do you think that I still want to be your errand girl?"

"Because this is all you've ever wanted, because this is all you have left whether you know it or not. Walk away from this, and that girl's name is wiped from history for nothing. What purpose would that serve? What meaning would her death have if you left this city behind? Put an end to our partnership, Courier, and deaths like hers will just keep on happening until there are no more smiling sunshine girls to love, is that what you want?"

"What I want right now is to _die! _Anything in the world is better than this pain, this pain you could never understand after centuries of being stuck in here, forgetting what the world looks like, turning your back on every goddamn thing that makes someone a person. If I die today, I win. If I die today," she said, remembering her words to Sunny Smiles, "at least there'll be something left of me to kill before you take all of it away. I thought I had everything here, I thought you could give me everything, but now I understand."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. Wasn't it always going to end like this? I'm the stuff of heroes - I was _made _for sacrifice."

She stepped back. Raised her hands.

"Do whatever you want to me. I'm no good to you anymore. This is my unconditional surrender."

As Securitrons surrounded her from every angle, she turned on the radio. As clung to the singer's soft promises about beginning again, Brianna O'Reilly shut her eyes.


	31. Heartaches By the Number

**THE PRESIDENTIAL SUITE**

**JULY 26**

**21:23**

House had killed her in a way his Securitrons never could.

He had ripped her apart with every word and allowed her remains to lie among the wreckage she had created.

_What have you done?_

The room lay in destruction. It had been empty, so empty. So impersonal and long, long forgotten. A bed, a table, a couple of couches in the corner. There were bookshelves, half-filled with blank notebooks and meaningless pre-war trinkets. A steel trunk had held weapons and ammo, but not anymore. The wardrobe had been filled with dresses and shoes and armour.

Not anymore.

_What have you done?_

She'd torn it all apart.

She'd torn the pictures from the walls and smashed them against the tables, shuddering with ecstasy as they shattered against her eardrums.

_What have you done?_

She'd taken the clothes and ripped them to shreds, decorating the carpet with ribbons of colour.

_What have you done?_

She'd torn through the pillowcases and sent feathers flying about the room. She'd trampled on every one of them as she pulled the sheets apart.

_What have you done?_

She'd thrown the terminal off the desk and tossed books against walls and smashed vases on tables and thrived off the destruction.

_What have you done?_

She'd taken everything apart. She'd taken that image of pre-war perfection and sent it crumbling down around her.

_What have you done?_

She knew what she'd done.

She'd lost.

* * *

><p>"You've made this very easy for me, Courier. I thank you for that."<p>

She blocked out his voice, holding onto the lyrics of the song and the image of a smiling woman with long blonde hair.

She waited for the bullets. She waited for the pain. She waited for everything she knew to crack and splinter into darkness.

She waited for whatever came next, if there was anything at all.

"I am truly grateful for the sense of security you felt with Sunny Smiles. I'll admit that your openness around her has helped me a great deal. Now open your eyes, lower your hands and swallow your pride for just one moment. You won't be dying today. Not by my hands, at least."

She opened her eyes and lowered her hands but she did not swallow her pride. "Fuck you, House. I said I'm done playing games."

"You are no longer playing, Courier. You no longer have a part in this game. From now on you will be little more than an extension of myself, doing exactly as I say and nothing but. When I tell you to fetch, you fetch. When I tell you to beg, you beg. When I tell you to die, you die. You will no longer be given any power - or should I say, any illusion of power. Understand?"

"What?! No, I don't fucking understand!" She yelled. "What is this?! What more could you possibly want from me?! I said I'm done! I'm not working with you, I'm not working _for_ you, I don't want any part of this! Let me go, or kill me! At this point, I don't care which option you choose. But I will never do anything for you again, House. Never again."

"Is that so? What if I decided that I no longer want you negotiating for me? Perhaps I might decide that I want you selling yourself on the streets again."

"What are you talking about?"

His image disappeared from the screen in front of her.

And she was hit with something so much worse than the cleansing heat of explosions.

There she was, walking side by side with Sunny Smiles. It was an old camera, washing out all the colour of the Mojave. Icy tendrils tightened around her heart as she watched, tears falling once more down her cheeks and landing, almost audibly, on the tiles below her. She'd never noticed that small bounce in Sunny's step before, never noticed the way that her hand habitually clenched into a fist before opening out again so she could repeat the constant motion. The camera was somewhere behind them, only showing half of Sunny's face as she gazed around absently before turning to look at Brianna.

"What does that matter?" Asked the dead woman. "It's still gonna be hard for you, right?"

"Look, I've been to slaver camps back in the Capital. Neither of us have even tasted hardship compared to what those people went through. Being locked up, beaten, _raped. _At least I had the privilege of choosing to be a whore."

Her breath hitched in her throat. She didn't know this woman in front of her. That stone-cold woman with the acid heart had been buried six feet under, she was nothing now. She was as much of a ghost as Sunny Smiles.

"You don't have to feel guilty for doing what you thought you had to do."

The video squeaked and sped forward.

"-how you're holding yourself together. I get that you're Brianna O'Reilly, wasteland femme fatale, but it's alright if you want to talk about some of this stuff with me. And before you interrupt, I know what you're gonna say. It's the fucking wasteland. Fucking people get fucking hurt and you have to suck it the fuck up and fucking deal with it. And that's what I do because I'm Courier Six and I curse a lot to channel my inner anger and emotional trauma because I'm too good for feelings."

The sound died down.

"Victor," she said, in a voice like a death knell. "You were spying on us. You know everything, don't you?"

"You have no idea how much I know. I know every detail about you and every single person you know who's ever set foot on Mojave soil. I know the name of everyone who has ever passed through Freeside's gates. Even as we speak, I'm watching the gambling hall in The Tops casino. Someone just won quite a sum of money, by the looks of it. I can see three Gomorrah prostitutes sharing a cigarette in an alleyway. I just watched one of my Securitrons take down a vagrant who tried to sneak in from Freeside. I see a rather dazed-looking woman in a white dress wandering the second street while the White Glove's maître d' locks something rather interesting in a freezer. I see everything in this city, Miss O'Reilly."

Brianna's rage was gunpowder in her veins as she slammed her fists on the control control panel. With every word, she shot a hole through everything she'd once believed.

"Fuck you, House! Fuck everything you are! You're nothing! You're a monster! And everything you want is going to come crashing down around you, because New Vegas is nothing but your snow globe! It's contained, it's expensive, it's some useless pre-war toy but you can't see a goddamn thing that's beyond it. All you do is sit on your neon throne and shake it and shake it because you don't have anything else! You broke our spirits! You broke everything and you painted your wreckage in Old World colours, that's your legacy, that's all you've done!"

"I've grown tired of this conversation. You will do as I ask, regardless of your screaming, because I have the power to lock down this hotel once more, ensuring that you may only ever leave at around such time when the Strip's whores crawl out onto the streets. I can force you into your old line of work with no difficulty on my part, I assure you, and your remaining friends will be released or killed depending on how well you behave. If you try to run, I'll have you dragged back here and locked in this room until you've learned to obey me."

"That sounds _very _counter-productive," she snapped, her voice bubbling with the white-hot intensity of her rage.

"Or I could have a few Securitrons escort you to Fortification Hill. I could watch through their cameras as you repeat exactly what I've told you. Say something wrong and my robots pay a visit to New Reno. Your father was known as Ezekiel when you last came here, but his name changes like your temperament, doesn't it? I don't recall what he's been running from, but you said he couldn't come home, not until he took care of business. Your mother, on the other hand, she hasn't left, has she? I heard you mention her to Mortimer back in the Ultra Luxe during your little performance. Your blubbering has been more beneficial than either of us expected, isn't that right? Now save me the trouble of slaughtering your friends and family, Brianna. Go to The Fort, follow my instructions, and don't try to kill yourself again. I'll leave nobody behind to mourn you."

* * *

><p>Brianna O'Reilly had collapsed with exhaustion and a dead woman had woken. Corruption gnawed her bones as she dragged her feet across blood-slick tiles, tried to shower off the stench of death with the purifying agony of scalding water. She succeeded in one thing: saturating her sun-starved mind with thoughts of home and promises and a woman who'd already been gone too long. There was a stagnancy flowing through her veins, a clawing creature in her stomach and someone had shoved her heart into a body bag and left it to rot. She hated this decomposition, she hated the ice-cold <em>death <em>that was spreading inside her like a goddamn sickness, like a laughing sort of cancer and she knew this agony was terminal. There was a vicious sort of cold in her, a cold that burns and a cold that bites. She filled her rucksack with nothing that would nourish her, nothing that would heal her scars, nothing she could pull over her shivering corpse to hide the gouges her nails had left in her skin. She carried herself like a marionette, dancing under the influence of drunken hands.

Veronica Santangelo stood in the hallway of the presidential suite, a bleary-eyed tragedy in a frayed hood and scribe robes.

"What do we do now?" She asked in a voice like glass. "We can't do what he wants, we _can't. _What did he say to you? What do we do?"

She tried to speak, but gagged on the stinking putrefaction in her throat. She shut her mouth, afraid of what insects might spill past her lips instead of words.

"What do we do, Brianna?! You can't leave me like this, you can't. We have to get out of here. Can you hear me? Brianna?"

"I think-" Was all she could manage for a moment, choking on the smell of rotten meat. "I think I'm dead."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why didn't he bury me, Veronica?" She asked. "He- he said he'd get his Securitrons to clean me off the floor. Why am I still here?"

"Okay. Okay, I think you need to sit down for a second."

"You think I'm lying. I _wish _I was, I- I don't understand what's wrong with me but I can't, I _can't _feel my pulse, Veronica, look."

She stretched out her arm. Veronica hesitantly placed her thumb over Brianna's wrist. Some kind of empty assurance about how she was alive.

"No. No, there's something wrong. I'm dead, I'm _dead _but I can't see her! Why can't I see Sunny if I'm dead? How can you see _me?" _She leaned back against the wall. "I hear bloatflies in my brain, I stink like rotten meat, I feel like my skin doesn't fit right anymore. I had a friend before, a doctor friend, she should be here too. She- she said something to me once, something about Vault Depressive Syndrome and Chlorpromazine and Cotard's Syndrome. I need to get help but I _can't _because he'll kill me and I need to go home but I _can't _because he'll kill me and he thinks my parents are living in New Reno but I lied." Her voice was hushed now, a whisper. "Don't tell him. Don't tell him the truth, please. Please. I hate being dead, Veronica. It feels like nothing at all."

Veronica took her hand. "I know you won't believe a goddamn thing I say, Brianna, but you're alive. _You're alive. _You've lived the craziest life out of everyone I've ever met, and your heartbeat is possibly the most important thing in the Mojave Wasteland right now. It's there, I can feel it, it's electric. I don't know how I can make you feel it again, but you will. I promise you, you will. I've read about what you're going through and trust me, it's as common as a pre-war kid getting chickenpox. It's one of the trademarks of every escaped mutant slave, every vault survivor, every ghoul, they all have their delusions, and this is one of them. You think you're dead. You _know _you're dead. But once we sort this out, once we figure out what to do from here, that'll all go away. As soon as you're out of this place, you'll come back to life. Can you believe me when I say that?"

She nodded. "I know what to do. I know how I can make things better. If you follow me, if you don't ask questions, if you just- just let me deal with this-"

"I'll be right behind you."

* * *

><p>They found her outside, leaning against the wall of the Lucky 38 with a dog by her side and a drink in her hand.<p>

"Wish you'd never showed up, Bree. Wish I'd never listened to a goddamn word you said."

"Don't do this to me, Cass. You knew what you were signing up for. You knew what could happen, but you still followed me."

"Did it look like I had much left to live for? I thought that somethin' good was gonna come out of all this. I thought I'd be able t' kick the habit, get back in the world, get up on my feet again. I thought you knew exactly what you were doing, I thought we could make the whole goddamn world into roses and make everything better. But then I found out that I'd need a couple more drinks to wash down the taste of human flesh."

"You think this is my fault? You think I signed up for this?!"

"No, I don't!" She rose to her feet, shaky for a moment before she straightened herself. "It's not like you had no idea what you were doing and only wanted to cling onto the idea that _you _had some kinda say in what was going on. And don't look so surprised, either. Your little conversations with that dumb, blonde bitch weren't all that discreet. And they weren't cute, either. They were_pathetic. _See, you had this little idea that maybe, just maybe, someone would fall in love with you and you'd live happily ever after despite the fact that you were dancing into every fucking death trap in sight. That's right, Bree. You killed that girl. That smiley tattooed raider you 'fell in love' with? You got her killed. It was all - _your_ - fault."

Her anger was cold. Her anger was laughing. Her anger controlled her every movement, guiding her muscles as she pinned Cass against the wall, holding her by the throat and digging her dirt-caked nails into Cass' neck. "Stay here, Cass. Head back to the casino if you want, take all the money you need. I can't wait to see you spend every last cap on whiskey. I can't wait to see that little flickering light leave your eyes with every drink. I can't wait to see you stumble around Vegas with nowhere to go, wishing you still had someone to help you. I can't wait until weeks pass and you look at yourself in the mirror and see some cold, empty shell of the person you used to be. And I can't _wait_ until you realise that the person you once were was a desperate, cruel, pathetic piece of shit whose caravan got burned into ash along with the rest of her life. I can't wait until you realise that you have nothing to run back to, no good life to return to because you were never anything good at all."

She released her grip. "Drink yourself to death, Cass. You just aren't good for anything else."

* * *

><p>Even as they left the Strip behind them, she remembered Cass' face.<p>

Every detail was so clear in her memory, sharp enough for her to mentally pinpoint the placement of every freckle across Cass' burning cheeks. She remembered the flushed red markings that her fingers had left on her throat. She remembered that crumpled expression on her face, and how her eyes shone like the sunlight filtering through dusty bar room windows. But she didn't feel a goddamn thing, not even the aching in her heart anymore. Veronica said she was sick, but how could a corpse get sick? How could a corpse bleed like she had, after she'd sliced her knife across her finger in search of some sensation? Corpses couldn't kill old friends and corpses couldn't grieve. It didn't make sense for a corpse to have a death wish, but here she was, embracing the amber glow of her suicide in the distance.

God, she was so selfish.

"We shouldn't have done that to her," Veronica said at last. "We shouldn't have left her behind."

"Then go back. Go help her."

"I can't. I can't go back there, I can't face it." For a few more minutes, there was silence. "We should talk."_  
><em>

"About what? I'm sick and she's dead and there's nothing to gain by following me."

"There's everything to gain, that's why I'm here."

"Not where I'm going," she breathed, but Veronica didn't hear her.

"You can't let this destroy you, Brianna. That's not what Sunny would want. You need time, I know that. I do too. But you can't start thinking that this is the end for you. Even if you do think you're a corpse."

"Can you keep talking? I don't care what you say, it's just- it's helping. Have you lost anyone?"

"Hey, you know my parents are dead. It's just a thing that happens out here. But people didn't let me accept it. They wanted me to move on as quickly as possible, you know? They had a little ceremony for everyone who died out in HELIOS, let all the sad little knights and scribes take the rest of the week off, but that was it. After that, it was over. We just had to go along the same way as everyone else. The grief lasted so long, just this aching that went on for months before it numbed me completely."

"You don't seem like a numb person."

"No, I guess not. I've got a tragic tale of love that warmed me up a little," she smiled. "Her name was Christine. We fell in love, danced out in the valley and fought off giant scorpions until are hearts were full to bursting. It was great while it lasted. It was love. But if there's anything in that bunker that can't give us information, help us kill people or produce something beneficial, then it has no business being there - lesbians included. We can't make babies, so what's the point? I guess I never really understood that. No one was gonna trust me with a screaming little version of myself, and there weren't too many guys lining up to get in my pants. But people got suspicious, and neither of us could cope with just holding hands under tables anymore. So eventually she left. Wanted to put some distance between her and her parents."

"You didn't go with her?"

"I couldn't bring myself to leave everyone else behind. Couldn't convince her to stay, either. I hoped that love would be enough to influence her decision, but in the end, we were both too stubborn. I'm sure she's moved on now, found another hot scribe to make sweet love to in the middle of the night. I still think about her though. Once in a while."

The conversation quickly died after that. Veronica's thoughts were better company than Brianna, and it seemed like they both just needed the silence. So they walked east. They followed the road for a while, then branched off to walk along the sand. In the end, she didn't care who Veronica had lost. The radio signal was getting stronger every minute, and a promised end to this mental purgatory was waiting for her behind the mountains.

* * *

><p>"We should have a funeral," Veronica blurted. "We can't just stay like this. I can't. Even if we use a goddamn packet of mashed potatoes in place of the body, it'll do something. It'll help you<em>feel<em>something. It's better feeling pain than that empty grief, that nothing."

A tiny shack lay just off the road, another abandoned old building not unlike the others they'd seen dotted across the landscape. As Brianna moved closer, she found that it wasn't a shack, but an ancient wooden outhouse that hadn't been occupied in decades. The toilet had been dragged out - for unknowable reasons - to the side of the building. She stood up on it, using the new height to climb up onto the roof of the structure. She sat down, leaving room for Veronica to join her.

"You want to watch the sunset together?" Veronica questioned. "Isn't that a little cliché?"

_"What do you want me to say? I love your smile, your laugh-"_

"You wanted a substitute for her body, right?" She gestured towards the setting sun. "Here it is."

The smile dropped from Veronica's face. As the sun fell further and further below the sandy horizon, it bathed the evening in a warm pink glow.

And then she remembered everything.

She remembered every warm kiss they'd shared in Gomorrah, wrapped up in sheets and arms, both dizzy with drink as she laughed against Sunny's neck. She almost felt the ghost of that heat against her rotting skin. She remembered Goodsprings, how crisp and cool that night had been when she'd first stepped out into the town. She remembered laughing hysterically out in the middle of nowhere, hugging Sunny as tightly as she could, embracing everything that was new and unknown and long, long gone. She remembered the fractured sunlight of the lake above her, that perfect and silent cathedral where she could pray in wordless gratitude to everything the grave had given her.

She remembered how Sunny had stopped in her tracks just to point out a happy-looking stranger.

She remembered every pile of clothes that had been tossed at her face in the morning, every murmured 'goodnight' before they'd both fallen asleep.

She remembered intricate tattoos, each as bright and beautiful as a rainbow over Zion.

She remembered how Sunny had stood high on the balls of her feet to make herself seem taller.

She remembered how Sunny had cut down those Powder Gangers in Nipton, despite all they'd done, just to stand against the Legion.

She remembered how Sunny had rescued them all from bloatflies, and again from Lady Jane's band of raiders in that alleyway by the Wrangler.

She remembered how Sunny had lived. So happily, so hopefully.

As the sun set, she thought about letting go.

But she couldn't.

She needed that warmth, she needed that sunlight again, something to breathe life into her corpse and dig her up once more from this grave she'd found herself in. But she couldn't go back to the way she was, either. She couldn't be that cold, cold person walking nowhere in the dead of the night. She couldn't face that hopeless rebel without a cause, that sly-eyed mercenary with an inferno in her chest, that reckless woman with a bullet scar and a vengeance. She needed her sunshine. She needed Sunny Smiles, something to cling to, something to hold, something that was bright and good and full of hope, something that made her believe there was something more to this stumbling decomposition. She couldn't let go of the person she had known so briefly and that woman she had been so fleetingly.

So she would take her last gamble.

"Don't follow me," she pleaded, leaving Veronica behind and sprinting with all her energy. Her boots slammed against the road and the radio hummed in her ears. It was her life support, it was her Platinum Chip, it was everything that could ever matter and she knew in those seconds that she really was delusional. She knew in those moments that she really was insane. She needed those words, that song, that sunshine, and Veronica Santangelo wasn't enough to pull her back. The woman from the radio drowned out the world, promised her that there was more to life than this deathless death, this spiralling in circles, this empty pitch-black nothing. She believed her. She had to.

Brianna O'Reilly was a dead woman, and she raced headlong into her burial grounds.


	32. Crazy, Crazy, Crazy

"This is a Brotherhood bunker! What are you doing here?!"

"Go back, Veronica. Go back to the Brotherhood. Just go!"

"Did House put you up to this?! Oh, God, what are you doing, Brianna?! What's he making you do?!"

_It's gotta be here._

There was something beyond this hollow desperation, something that promised her an escape. The radio broadcast had lulled her to sleep and urged her awake, it had guided every shaky movement and carved her path from sand and stone. Hers was a life after death, and this broadcast promised a Heaven that would take her. So she followed it with everything in her, followed it into the ground and through a maze of a million steel rooms. Beds, bathrooms, bare walls. She just had to find the source, she just had to find the radio, because the world had taken her sunshine away, and that sweet voice promised to give it back.

_"There's nothing here! You're delusional! You're crazy!"_

She wasn't crazy. She'd never been more lucid in her life, had never felt purpose eating a hole through her chest, had never felt this desperate urgency spreading through her like a fever. Everything she touched was set alight and Brianna O'Reilly was an inferno, she had never felt this fire in her veins before, not like this, she had never been consumed like this. Acid burned the skin from her face and fire ants spilled from her mouth in a clicking swarm. She was a plague in the form of a hurricane in the form of a girl, a girl too broken to remember the difference between life and death. This girl was the divide.

She found the radio waiting in an empty room and sank to her knees in subconscious prayer, eyes snapping open when she heard it.

The hiss.

And when a sickly yellow gas filled the room, filled her lungs, she knew that she was dying all over again.

* * *

><p><em>"Has your life taken a turn? Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind? If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to begin again. Come to a place where wealth, excitement and intrigue wait around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort, make new friends, or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert under clear, star-lit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our villa rooftops. Countless diversions await. Gamble in our casino, take in the theatre, or stay in one of our exclusive suites that will shelter you and cater to your every whim. So if life's worries have weighed you down, if you need an escape from your troubles, or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us. Let go, and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening this October.<em>

_We'll be waiting."_

* * *

><p><strong>-END OF PART ONE-<strong>


	33. Begin Again

**ERROR;:/**

**no signal found_ERROR:;**

**re-directing...**

**re-directing...**

**re-directing...**

Brianna O'Reilly was alive. She was awake.

She was reliving a nightmare.

Ragged breaths tainted with the taste of blood and chemicals. Leaden muscles, pounding head, beating heart.

She pulled herself up into a painful sitting position. The world was hazy and red as if illuminated by some dying bulb.

_"Are you awake yet? Get up. Get up!"_

She struggled to her feet. A choked gasp escaped her throat. Her knees buckled beneath the impact of this impossible view.

No.

This didn't make sense.

She was standing in the middle of a blood-stained postcard. A villa, with a dim red haze clinging to every building, obscuring the details of the rounded outer walls and balconies that rested over the mountains beyond. There was no sky, only a crimson haze blocking out the sun. The only light came from the hologram above the stone fountain ahead. Appearing in a ghostly blue light was the still image of a man. His eyes were narrow and sly, his bead thick and white. His image flickered rapidly in front of her, too big and too bright and too impossible to believe.

"Are you the devil?" She whispered, but he didn't seem to hear her.

_"Are you listening? Good. From now on, when I talk, listen, and follow my instructions. Play stupid, play clever, make the mistake of saying no? That collar on your neck will go off and take your head with it. See, it's like that little Pip-Boy on your wrist, except fully functional and filled with explosives. A little radio from the Old World, just needed some tuning."_

She blinked dumbly, every word resting on her shoulders like a ton weight.

"No," she breathed, barely hearing the word fall past her lips as her hands reached up towards her neck.

Her fingers did not find flesh. They found metal.

_"Do as I say,"_ the devil went on,_ "and the collar won't go off. But refuse? Try to run, hide, disobey me? I'll kill you. I'll kill you without hesitation. Ask me why."_

"Why?"

_"Because Dog brought me a spare."_

_No._

She searched around frantically, eyes raking the surrounding area for some sign of her.

_Veronica._

"Take her back," she gasped. "Th- this is my fault, she doesn't belong h-"

_"Silence! There is no escape from here until I let you go. The sooner you accept the situation, the better."_

"What do you want?!" She yelled. "What is this?!"

This was insane. This was crazy. This was all her fault.

_"The structure you see above the fountain, the Sierra Madre Casino... You need to break inside. A heist, you could call it, too many years in the making. But to get inside, oh, it isn't easy, I assure you. More than a few have lost themselves in the cloud, captivated by the promise of treasure or escape. And surviving the cloud isn't the hardest part. To get inside, avoid the casino's traps, you'll need to gather the team. A team which now includes your friend. She's a clever woman, there's no denying that. Even if you fail, it will make an interesting show. But you cannot do this alone. No one can."_

"I'm in hell," she realised. Someone had taken her armour, replaced it with a grey jumpsuit marked with a bright red **X. **"You're the devil."

_"Not quite. I've just finished downloading instructions to your Pip-Boy, and I've added map markers to help you find your way. Get the other four here, including your friend. She's looking for Collar 8, the FEV reject. I would suggest you do the same. After you bring them here, I'll give you more instructions. __Do this, and I'll let you go. I'll let all of you go. And should you get any ideas about killing each other and taking the Sierra Madre's treasure for yourself, a warning. All your collars are linked. One of you dies, you all die. If that's what it takes to make you cooperate, so be it."_

"Why? Why would you do that?!"

_"Because in some respects, breaking into the Madre is easier than breaking human instinct. Greed. The Villa is filled with corpses. Some were killed by the cloud, some by me. Others turned on each other. Once they realised the Sierra Madre could be theirs, they stopped caring for their freedom, for their own survival or the lives of those around them. Greed is what drives humanity, and greed is what's driving you. I'll tell you one more thing before you go. Do this - crack the Sierra Madre open at last - and I will let you free with any of the riches your heart desires. I will give you everything."_

"Everything?"

_"Everything the casino has to offer. Riches of the greatest kind, anything you could ever want, if you can get to it. I will guide you through the broadcast systems where I can track your movements, and communicate with you via that device on your arm when those are not available. Do not disappoint me. Neither of us has anything to lose, and that is why failure is unthinkable."_

* * *

><p>The Sierra Madre was beautiful in the strangest sort of way. All winding pathways with immaculate stone steps, arched passageways and peacefully dim lights. It was captivating. It was haunting. Even with her Pip-Boy map and a raspy voice leading her in the right direction, she found herself wandering off on occasion, following the wrong path or heading down the wrong set of stairs. She'd picked up a rifle that had been lying next to the fountain, and spent some time studying it to figure out how it worked.<p>

_"It's a holorifle, a __weapon I constructed when I arrived. Fashioned it from the holograms of the Villa. It fires concentrated photon-based energy projectiles rather than beams of plasma or laser, and the scope model was inspired by one originally designed for a laser rifle, only this one has integrated night vision."_

"Who am I using it against?"

_"Oh, I must have forgot to mention: watch out for the Villa's living inhabitants. They're rather difficult to kill unless you chop them apart."_

"There are people here?"

_"'That wouldn't be the word I'd use to describe them. Not anymore."_

"Then what are they?"

_"Ghosts. Preserved by the cloud somehow. I thought that chopping them apart would kill them for good, but it takes more than that. They still twitch every now and then, even without limbs or heads. But eventually they start to bleed; their remains start to collapse and turn to dust. Disintegrating them is the best way to put them down for good."_

"So they're like ferals."

_"No. No, they are not like ferals."_

She sensed the quiet urgency of his tone and looked up.

Froze.

And watched with widened eyes as the creature shambled through the archways ahead, every movement slow and spasmodic. Even from a distance, she knew it wasn't human. It was a shadow, sucking in the light around it. The thing was nothing but negative space, an absence of light taking the shaky, distorted form of a person. Its shoulders were slumped, its arms held out too far from its sides. Every step screamed a sense of wrongness; it was something so distinctly human, but at the same time so different. Its eyes glowed green, piercing through the dark veil surrounding its elongated form. At first she thought it was wearing a gas mask, with some strange form of night vision goggles secured to its eyes.

As it shuffled closer, she knew that she was wrong.

The thing wasn't wearing a gasmask, just like it wasn't wearing a black radiation suit. The helmet was fused somehow to the creature's head; it wore the suit like skin and scanned the Villa as if those goggles were its eyes. She had to move. She had to do _something, _even if that meant running in the opposite direction for as long as she could. The creature was slow, deliberate in every movement. She would lose the thing within a minute if she didn't find herself stuck at a dead-end. But she could only watch in horror as it turned its head towards her.

_"There's a pathway to your right. It will take you behind that building and through it to the other side. Go."_

She went, feet slamming against the stone as she dashed through the building. Her eyes locked for a half-second on a few hastily scribbled words on the nearest wall.

**RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.**

So she ran. She ran through the house and out the other side, following the spray-painted arrows that the dead stranger had left behind. She gulped down breaths of copper-tainted air and stumbled out into a silent courtyard. The building was illuminated by a dying porch light and the wall was marked by a large red **X. **She secured her rifle at her back and headed towards it, stopping for a moment only to read another scribble of graffiti.

**IF ANYONE READS THIS, I'M SO SORRY YOU'RE HERE.**


	34. COLLAR 8: The Simplest of Beasts

**POLICE STATION**

**error: 392**

**redirecting...**

**redirecting...**

_"Speakers and radios interfere with the bomb collar frequency. They can trigger the detonators... prematurely."_

"So, play a little Dean Martin and my head will blow up?"

_"Exactly. It's an unfortunate side-effect that I didn't anticipate, but you'll have to make do."_

Brianna strolled past the radio on the table and switched it off, silencing the static. A heavy silence hung over the room, the air thick with dust and neglect. The place was ancient. Everything reeked of the Old World, everything except for the metal cage positioned against the wall to her right.

She exhaled a curse, edging closer to the rusted cell before a sudden ringing stopped her. A high-pitched beeping. She could feel the sound buzzing against her throat. She stepped back, looking around the room until her eyes locked on another radio just ahead. She shrugged her rifle down and readied it, holding the scope to her eye and firing a single blue blast at the device, sending it exploding into a shower of sparks.

She moved towards the cage again, anxiety growing with every step. She only made it past the busted remains of the first radio before the beeping returned.

"Shit," she muttered, taking another quick step back as the beeping grew quicker and quicker in frequency. "Shit, shit, sh-"

Veronica Santangelo stepped through the door ahead and blasted the speaker above with her holorifle.

"Must've missed that one."

She was almost unrecognisable. But it wasn't the bomb collar or the missing hood; it wasn't the jumpsuit or the rifle or the blood on her knuckles that made Brianna stare. It was her lips, bloodied and curled upwards into a snarl of hatred. It was her fists, clenched tightly at her sides now that her rifle had been secured again on her back. Her rage was visible in every tensed muscle, every quick flicker of motion in her eyes as they scanned the room, then locked on Brianna.

"You did this," she accused. "You brought us here. You brought us here! Why?!"

Veronica slammed her into the wall before she could reply.

"Did House make you do this?!" She demanded. "Did you know?! Did you know that you were killing yourself when you came here?! Killing me?!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but the words barely rose past the scar on her throat.

"Did you know?! When I told you about Elijah, did you know he was here?! Did you know he was alive?! What does House want with him, what do _you _want w-?!"

"I thought it would be like Zion!" She sobbed, cringing away from Veronica's glare. "I thought it would take me to Heaven, I thought it would be beautiful, I-"

"Are you insane?! You thought this place _wasn't_ a death trap?! You thought you could just run away?! That is _bullshit, _Brianna! That is bullshit!"

"I swear! I swear I just wanted to get away, I just wanted Sunny back, I didn't know, I- I didn't know I swear to God I thought-"

"You thought things would be better here? You thought-" She barked a cruel laugh. "You thought that you could leave Cass for dead? You thought that you could lie to my face and drag me out into the middle of nowhere just to get what you wanted? You thought that you could leave Vegas behind, abandon those people, abandon everything - for a _casino?! _You've killed us, Brianna! You've killed us! Do you understand that? We can't get out of this! We - are - _dead!"__  
><em>

"You never should have followed me, you- you should've-"

"You don't know who he is, do you?" She breathed. "The man who put us here?"

She shook her head.

"That's Elijah, Brianna. That's Elijah."

"W- what?"

"You know, technology genius, ex-Brotherhood Elder, the hey-why-don't-we-start-making-some-more-lethal-weapons Elijah? That one? Yeah, you!" She retreated into the centre of the room. "Can you hear me, Elijah?! You know I'm here! You know who I am! And I'm gonna ruin your goddamn life, do you hear me?!" She took a deep breath, looking Brianna dead in the eyes. "I know you're delusional. I know you're going insane because of House, because of Sunny, because of everything you wanted to save, but Sunny's dead and House is a million miles away and none of them can touch you here. You know the saying, right?" Her smile was a dagger pressed against Brianna's throat. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

She pressed something flat and square into Brianna's hand before she could reply. "Holotape," she said. "It'll make the mutant in the cage start talking. Scan it, play it, get us one step closer to freedom. You owe the world that much."

She held out her arm, allowing the Pip-Boy to scan the tape for data. When the audio file flashed up on the screen, she made for the mutant. In the dim lighting, Brianna could make out only a large, hulking figure rocking _back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth _on the floor inside his cell. She moved closer. It was muttering something under its breath, digging its nails deep into its legs and scratching upwards, squirming when he drew blood. Something flickered in her memory, something about a sloping hill and a police car, and Sunny Smiles proclaiming her love for the Old World. She didn't know who that was, what that was, she couldn't remember a goddamn thing about that moment, it was just a dream, it was just some abstract idea that had floated through her mind a long time ago. What the hell was a police car? Who was Sunny Smiles?

"Just play the damn thing," Veronica snapped. "I don't know what it's supposed to do, but-"

_"NOOOOOO!"_

The mutant clambered to his feet, staggering and crashing against the metal bars of his cell. He rattled the chains around his neck, the clamorous racket bouncing off the walls as he wailed. He dragged his nails down his face, slammed his head against the bars, stared at her with wide, desperate eyes.

_"VOICE HURTS! VOICE HURTS!"_

She kept herself at a safe distance and clicked the amber button on her Pip-Boy.

_"Dog! __Back in the cage!"_

The mutant recoiled as if every word was a punch in the gut. Then he straightened. Cleared his throat. Moved slowly towards the bars.

"What have we here?" He wondered in a voice that wasn't his, eyes suddenly alight with an intelligence that had not existed in him just a moment ago. "You weren't who I was expecting. I'm disappointed. Still, even if you aren't my intended guest, you take direction. Good. You can't have been an idiot to figure out how to release me from my cage. Or perhaps you are, with that leash on your arm and the one around your neck. With our collars and manacles, why, we may as well be kin."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the voice of reason. I sleep sometimes, down in the basement. In the cage. Now that I'm awake, Dog goes back in the cage." Seeming to sense her confusion, he explained, "I'm Dog's conscience, you could say. He knows I'm here, in his body, but he can't do anything about it. I try my best to keep him tame, keep him from doing foolish things. Do you see these wounds of his, the bear trap on his arm? He placed his own hand in it. He inflicts pain on himself to remind him of who he is. To silence me, when all I try to do is h- GAH!"

The mutant clutched his head, stumbling back from the cell bars. "He cuts, he hurts, tries to murder me out of him! Dog roams, he gets into trouble, eats things he shouldn't, takes people he shouldn't, listens to others he shouldn't. That's why I locked him in here. He's safer in here. I hoped that if I trapped him in here, the one he obeys would come to fetch him. Instead I get you two."

"Dog takes things he shouldn't?" Brianna questioned, only half-understanding. "Like us? Did you bring us here?"

"No. Dog and I don't share everything. Your arrival here was a surprise. To me, at least. And as for your friend-" He turned to Veronica. "She was never supposed to be here. Dog has only ever brings one at a time, but I expect he was trying to be extra good for the Old Man. But who knows? Maybe two could be better. Maybe two could change things. But I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving until the one who controls the collars shows up. Not his voice, not his hand, not his lackey. _Him._ And when he comes to see me, we'll settle things."

"You stay here and we die. He'll set off your-" She paused. "Where is it? Where's your collar?"

He gave a low chuckle. "It's close. Somewhere inside me. Dog has quite the appetite, as you may soon discover. I can feel it, cold inside my stomach. Ticking slowly, clicking and burning inside. And now that you're here, I can feel it tugging like a leash. How interesting. But useless, because I'm not moving. If the Old Man kills me, I still win. I'd rather die in this cell than have Dog follow him any longer. If I had the choice, I would let go of this place. Leave the Madre behind. Leave the cage behind."

"You think I want this collar on me? You think I want to be here any more than you do? I'm trying to get us out of here! I want to put an end to this, understand? So either you tell me where the key is, or I'll bring out the one who will."

"You can't," he sneered. "Dog is not the one in control now."

"I bet if he heard his master's voice he'd come running out like an excited puppy," she smiled, tapping her Pip-Boy.

"If you contact the Old Man, I will _murder_ you. I will snap your spine in half, crush your arms and legs and-"

_"Dog! __Out of the cage."_

The mutant's desperate cry was cut short. His shoulders hunched and he began to sniff the air curiously.

"Master? Dog not hear you come in. Too hungry now. At cage door? Master?"

"Dog, there's a key on you somewhere. Find it."

"There- there is no-" He trailed off, reaching frantically around his body, tearing at his rags before stopping finally at the back of his neck. "Did not know it was here."

"Give me the key."

"Yes, Master," he said, pushing it into her splayed palm. "Master sounds different. Quieter. Master, Dog not want to be in the cage anymore. Dog will be good, promises. Dog has brought you two people this time, Dog is extra good, Dog will obey."

_This is the one who dragged me here._

"You answer to me and my friend, understand?"

"Friend? Dog did not know of Master's friend. Dog will obey, Master. Dog swears."

"Good. Follow me."

* * *

><p>"Have you killed one yet?" Veronica asked, keeping her voice low as she watched the shadow from behind the archway. It moved across the pavement with strange, jerky steps, stretching its neck back to gaze up for just a moment at the blood-red sky. The pair kept their holorifles trained on the creature as it moved, so far oblivious to their presence.<p>

"Not yet," she admitted. "What about you?"

She pursed her lips. "Yeah. I have."

"Master?" Dog whispered, licking his lips impatiently. "Dog eat now?"

Brianna glanced at Veronica for confirmation. She nodded.

"Knock yourself out."

The mutant charged in the creature's direction with an angry cry. The two moved to flank him as he slammed his giant fists down on the monster's head. It twisted impossibly to one side, swinging an arm. The light from Veronica's blast illuminated it for just a moment, allowing Brianna to see the bear trap that served as its right hand. The teeth clamped down on Dog's arm. He howled in pain as Brianna fired two quick shots in its direction, knocking it back just in time for Veronica to finish it off.

_"HUNGRY!" _Dog wailed, leaping down onto the fallen shadow person and digging into its torso with his nails. Brianna fixed her gaze on her shoes, stomach churning. Before she could look up again, the mutant was already throwing himself on another creature just ahead, opening his mouth wide and biting a bloody chunk out of its face. "All gone," he grunted, staring triumphantly down at the mutilated corpse once he had finished mauling it. "All gone now."

Veronica shouldered her rifle. "He gave you the collar frequencies, right?" She asked. They're supposed to help us find the others - something to do with recording devices in the collars."

She didn't reply, studying the new frequencies on the Radio tab. The first one she clicked was silent until Brianna spoke again. Her uncertain "Hello?" was repeated through the speakers after a half-second's delay. She skipped past it and tuned into the one below. The same silence. She scrolled down to try the third frequency before something began to crackle. She strained her ears to listen, detecting the faintest tap-tap-tapping sound. A few mechanical clicks and whirs. A loud banging, as if someone was pounding hard against a wall. There was a voice, she noticed, a woman's voice, barely audible above whatever machinery was working around her. She heard mumbling, a few muttered words, heavy breathing and the same incessant pounding.

"Collar 12," Brianna muttered, searching for the stranger's location on her map. "She's in the Medical District. It's not far." A sharp, hacking cough escaped her lungs as she returned her Pip-Boy to the default screen. She leaned back against the wall, coughing into her hands. They came back glistening red. "Guess you still bleed in the afterlife," she muttered, wiping the blood from her lips. "What a shitty deal."

* * *

><p><em>"Villa's comm speakers have aged poorly, like the Madre. Pre-war junk. There are damaged speakers and shielded ones - the damaged ones you can destroy at range, but they can't be turned off. Some you'll be able to run past without any harm, just be careful. Do <em>not_ get yourself blown up because you were too impatient to aim and fire."_

"Come down here and I might feel a little better about aiming and firing," Veronica muttered, stopping to look at a scribble on the archway.

_**LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP.**_

As Brianna moved closer, her collar began to beep. She didn't step back. She shrugged off her rifle and continued onwards, spotting the faint blue light behind the archway that marked the presence of a speaker. It took a single shot to destroy it. She moved onwards without a second's hesitation but stopped suddenly after a few more paces. A hooded figure with glowing green eyes peered around the archway ahead, gripping the wall's edge with gloved fingers. It cocked its head slowly to one side, studying her for a moment, waiting for her to make a move.

She approached the monster slowly, upper lip twitching into a snarl. She closed in like a wary dog with hackles raised, her muscles tense as adrenaline sharpened her vision. The ghost person scurried back and tossed a spear in her direction. She swerved. It whizzed past her face. She fired a beam into its chest, knocking it back for a half-second before it sped towards her again, second spear in hand. She let it rush her, shooting three sharp blasts into its face before dodging the oncoming lunge. She fired again into its back. It spun to face her. She twitched her finger on the trigger.

_Click._

"Catch!" Veronica yelled. Brianna spun around as a spear came flying in her direction, short enough to hold in one hand. She caught it by the handle and turned back to her attacker, charging into it with a scream of anger. She drove the spear into its skull, bowling it over and stabbing it again and again despite the inhuman cries that tore past its throat, despite the desperate twists of its body as it struggled beneath her. She stabbed until her face was wet with thick blue blood, until she drowned the screaming in her head, until she saw herself in the corpse beneath her.

It was Veronica who dragged her away, who kept her upright even as her legs shook beneath her. As they walked along the pathway, another invasive chorus of _beep, __beep, beep _stopped them. Brianna continued on, spear clutched in hand as she searched for the speaker.

_... beep... beep... beep..._

_beep beep beep beep beep_

_beepbeepbeepbeepbeep-_

"To your right!" Veronica yelled. Brianna swerved, spotting the speaker above her and tossing the spear in its direction.

It bounced off and fell to the ground with a clatter.

_"Shit!"_

There was no time to go back. She searched hopelessly for an exit. There was a door up ahead, a door she might be able to reach. It was her only chance.

She ran for it, grabbing frantically for the handle and throwing herself into the room with a desperate sob.

The beeping stopped but her vision was red. The toxic haze was tumbling down the staircase ahead in a concentrated pocket.

"Follow me!" She yelled, praying that Veronica would hear as she raced up the steps, charging straight into the choking clutches of the Cloud. She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe. She went upwards and upwards and upwards and emerged suddenly on a balcony, looking down on the empty street below. She gripped the railing for support as her lungs forced the toxins away. She coughed until her face was burning, until Veronica finally appeared and began to do the same. Dog ducked low to pass the door, muttering something she couldn't make out.

"We have to get down," Veronica urged.

Brianna nodded, coughing once more into her hands before sliding her legs over the railing and allowing herself to fall.

Down and down and down and down and down.


	35. COLLAR 12: The Little Doll

**MEDICAL DISTRICT**

**error: unknown**

**re-attempting...**

**re-attempting...**

_"Picking up an emitter signature. Watch out for holograms- dangerous. Don't shoot them, though. Attacking them is useless."_

The clinic door swung shut behind them. The lobby was dark, illuminated by the dying amber glow of a fluorescent light overhead. The place was suspended mid-apocalypse; entry forms lay incomplete in clipboards strewn about the desk, fashion magazines were left in the waiting area with pages still folded over. The terminal on the desk still displayed a half-finished email. They looked around for a few minutes, finding nothing but a couple of stimpaks, a loaded pistol and a holotape labelled MEDS. When she scanned it, streams of unintelligible code flashed on the Preview section until she deleted it, opting to store the disk in her pocket instead. Brianna glanced at the clock that ticked irregularly on the wall. With the murky red sky and a Pip-Boy on the fritz, she had no choice but to accept that it was roughly six-thirty, morning or evening.

"There aren't any more markers," she said, heading down the nearest hallway. "Guess we just look for her now."

"Sounds good," Veronica agreed, following. Dog lumbered along behind them as Brianna peered into the first door to her right, and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Jesus," she breathed, stepping into the room. "Veronica, look at this."

Two medical tables sat opposite to the door, separated by blood-splattered partitions. Bodies lay across them like wax dummies, their skin blanched and bruised. Their necks had been reduced to bloody stumps, thick with clumps of congealed blood. In the corner of the office, a mannequin stood with its arms outstretched, a bomb collar tight around its neck. A projector sat on a table next to it, casting a square of sepia on the wall opposite.

Veronica clamped her hands over her mouth and leaned back against the wall. "What did you do, Elijah?" She breathed, her face growing pale. "What the hell were you thinking?" She shook herself after a few moments, logging onto the terminal on the wall. "This is how he tested the collars. God, those were _people _there. How long do you think he's been doing this, making everything perfect before he finally started to play his little game?" She pursed her lips, eyes scanning back and forth. "There's something about the Cloud here. Looks like its absorbed through skin as well. They sent out some chemical suits so people could fix up the leakage somewhere in the building."

"You mean it's not radiation causing it?"

"It was there a long time before the bombs dropped, that's for sure." She began to search around the room, pulling open drawers and cupboards until she found what she was looking for. She produced a dark lump of fabric from beneath the projector, shaking it out to reveal what looked like lightweight armour. "Guess this is one of those suits. What are the chances of it being a woman's size ten?" She asked, handing it to Brianna.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving me this because you still care about me or because it's too small for you?"

"Just put the armour on."

Brianna sighed. "Turn around."

The suit fit her well. It was made from hard fabric and harder metal, with enough pockets and loops to store plenty of ammo and chems if she could find some. And if it really did keep the Cloud out of her skin, even better. They moved on from the medical room as soon as she finished changing, searching along the corridors and rooms for any sign of a woman with a bomb collar. They couldn't find anything but auto-docs, glowing ominously in every room they passed. They passed them without a thought until Brianna remembered the radio signal. The sound of fists pounding against metal.

"She's trapped in one of those things. We need to look around, find which one-"

_"The rest of this floor is covered with shielded speakers. Go upstairs. You might be able to deactivate them from there."_

"Or we could do that first," Brianna muttered, retracing her steps until she found the staircase they'd passed. The second floor revealed a very similar pattern of corridors and medical rooms, barely visible beneath the flickering lights. When she peered around the corner, Brianna saw the ghost. It bathed the walls in an ethereal blue light, party dress swaying as it strolled up and down the hallway to their right. She was reminded, just for a moment, of a girl in a turquoise frock with skin like a rainbow over Zion. She reached out, unable to pull herself back as she moved for the pacing phantom.

A hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her half-way down the staircase.

"It's a hologram," Veronica hissed. "If that thing goes hostile, there's nothing we can do to stop it."

"Sorry," she replied, taking a deep breath. "What do we do?"

"Dog," Veronica said, looking over her shoulder at the fidgeting mutant. "Head to the bottom of the stairs and keep a lookout, okay?"

"Master friend hiding? Master friend be okay?"

"Master friend be perfectly fine, just get down."

As Dog shambled off, Veronica returned her attention to the hologram again. "It's following a specific behavioural code, so it's just gonna walk up and down that hallway unless it sees someone. See the blue thing on the wall there? That's the emitter. Get rid of that, and the ghost is gone. As soon as Sunny turns around again, head into the first door to the left down that corridor."

Brianna froze. "What did you say?"

"Don't you want to get out of here?" She snapped. "Focus. Go."

Brianna nodded, following Veronica down the corridor and through the open door. The hologram walked calmly past, unaware of the intrusion.

"Alright," Veronica whispered, gesturing towards the small blue orb on the wall. "I need you to fire at that. Hurry."

Brianna readied her pistol and aimed, taking a moment to line up her sights before jerking her finger on the trigger. The hologram fizzled and died.

"Great shooting, sweetie!" Sunny chimed.

"Good job," Veronica said. "Let's find out how to shut the power off."

"C'mon," Sunny urged. "I still owe you a drink, right?"

She holstered her pistol, continuing along the corridor until they came across a flickering terminal built into the wall ahead. Veronica took that as her cue and quickly activated the machine. "Yep, this takes you to the main power grid. Looks like the only way we can get the shield off is to shut down the whole lot. Hope you're not afraid of the dark."

_Click._

They headed down the corridor in darkness. Dog was crouching low on the staircase where they'd left him, waiting for their return. He accompanied them eagerly down the stairs and along the corridor with the deactivated speakers. The place was buzzing with mechanical whirring. It looked like the auto-docs were still running on back-up power. They continued along in silence until they heard it. The distant tapping of metal on metal. When they found another room containing nothing but an active auto-doc, they knew it for certain.

Collar 12 was here.

"Hello?" Brianna called. "Is anyone in there?"

She reached for the computer and tapped the activation button.

**Opening...**

The door slid open and two metal arms released the woman from inside. She stumbled out, bloodied and beaten, releasing a faint groan of exhaustion. She could barely stand. The auto-doc had carved long, jagged lines across her face and head, two stretching outwards from the corners of her lips to the line of her jaw. Her head had been shaved and her lip torn. She'd abandoned her jumpsuit for a pair of cargo pants and a blood-splattered tank, and the red light on her collar pulsed like a steady heartbeat.

_"Christine!"_

Veronica ran for the stranger and wrapped her into a tight hug. The woman's ruined face was a mask of shock as she returned the embrace, grasping at the scribe like she was feeling her way through a darkened room. She pulled back from her, looked into her face with wide, blood-shot eyes, and enveloped herself into Veronica's arms again. She held her like she'd known her all her life.

"Oh my God," Veronica gasped. "It's you. It's you, it's you, oh my God."

_It was great while it lasted. It was love._

"How-? How-? Why are you here? How?"

Veronica pulled back, just far enough to look the stranger in the eyes without having to let go. "What happened?"

The woman winced in pain, opening her mouth to speak. Her bloody hands reached up to her neck, tracing along the skin. She looked back at the auto-doc with a panicked expression, stepping away and clenching her fists. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the room and locking on Brianna. She mouthed something.

_You._

"I didn't put you in there," she defended. "None of us did."

She didn't seem convinced, her eyes darting between the two women as her hands reached up once more to her throat.

"It's a bomb collar," Brianna explained. "Let's just say we're in this together."

Her frown deepened and she shook her head, moving to stand by Veronica. Her accusing gaze was fixed.

"They cut your vocal chords," Veronica realised. "Jesus Christ, none of this makes sense."

Christine glared at Brianna, using her finger to draw a line between them.

"No," Veronica said. "She's been with me from the start, she-" Her expression softened. "None of this is her fault."

She looked at Veronica curiously, as if asking for an explanation.

"We came here together, she's with me. Christine, what happened? What did that thing do to you?"

She shook her head, tracing the scars on her face. When she reached down to touch the scar on her throat, she nodded.

"It didn't cut up your face," Brianna guessed, "just your throat?"

She nodded.

"Then who did that to you?" Veronica asked. "How did you even get here?"

She pointed to her ears with both hands before making a walking motion with her fingers.

"You followed the radio," Brianna said. "So did we. I mean, so did I."

"I didn't know about it," Veronica expanded. "I was trying to stop her from doing something stupid. But if I hadn't-"

Christine's lips quirked upwards into a reassuring smile. Her hand brushed against Veronica's for a moment before she turned to Brianna and raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't have anything left."

She nodded, seeming to understand.

"We have to find the next collar, Collar 14. Will you come with us?"

She turned to Veronica again, eyes filled with adoration, and nodded.


	36. COLLAR 14: Mr Yesterday

**THE VILLA**

**error:unknown**

**re-attempting...**

**re-attempting...**

The hologram was waiting for them when they returned to the Villa. They followed the faint haze of blue light past rows of twisted trees with leaves that had long since fallen, lying red and crumpled on the pavement beneath their feet. When Brianna lifted one and crunched it between her fingers, they came back stained with scarlet. The Cloud was running through the veins of fallen leaves just like it was running through her. The poison in the air was was boring its way through the freckles across the bridge of her nose and the dry patches of skin between her knuckles. It was in her skin. It was in her lungs. It was already killing her.

Christine and Veronica walked with their fingers entwined, solemn and silent until the Medical District was far behind them.

"Where did you go?" Veronica asked, her voice soft as she glanced in Christine's direction.

Brianna walked behind them with Dog at her side. The mutant grumbled something about a beeping in his stomach as Christine acted out a response. She drew an invisible circle in the air, pointed to her collar and made a looking motion by shielding her eyes with her hand. Every action was small and deliberate, as if she was attempting to convey a whisper. She gave Veronica a hopeless look, waiting for her to understand the message.

"I know you went to The Circle after you left. And something about the collars?"

Her shoulders slumped in a silent sigh as she repeated the motion of pointing to her collar and searching for something in the distance.

"You were looking for this place? Looking for the Sierra Madre?"

She shook her head.

"Looking for technology like this? For bomb collars?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I hate charades."

"You were looking for Elijah," Brianna replied, stopping when they reached the fountain.

Christine turned around and nodded eagerly.

"Why?" Veronica asked. "What did he do before all this?"

She averted Veronica's gaze.

"Something bad, I'm guessing. You know, the last time anyone saw him was at the battle of HELIOS One."

She looked up, tilting her head slightly to one side as she listened.

"Everyone thought he was dead after the NCR overran the place, but I got a note from him at the comm station. The note, it- it was strange, even for him. I always knew he had some strong views about the Brotherhood, about the world, but this time I actually started to think he was crazy. He said that the Brotherhood was doomed, but that he'd return, save us. But the _way _he said it... He said he'd return with one of the greatest treasures of the Old World, make the Mojave like it was meant to be. Wipe the slate clean."

Christine sat down on the fountain's edge and looked up at the casino, eyes dark.

"You think that's what he meant?" Brianna asked. "He wanted to bring something back from here?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I didn't know about any of this. I don't know where he went, or- or what he wanted and none of this makes any sense! How did he even know this place was here? I mean, going by the writing above the Medical District, my guess is that we're in Mexico."_  
><em>

"Mexico?"

"South of America. Really, really south. But that doesn't mean a damn thing, does it? What does he _want _with this place? If that note had anything to do with the Sierra Madre, then the guy really is crazy. A casino can't change the world. It won't make anything like it was meant to be, I know that now." She turned to Christine. "Can you tell us anything else? Can you write something down, maybe tell me how the hell you're even here? What did he do, Christine? Is he why you went away? Did they send you to The Circle because of me, or because of him?"

Christine's mouth opened and closed as she tried to figure out a way to explain. She made a small, pathetic gesture with her hands.

"Hey, it's fine," she said, moving to Christine's side at the first sign of discomfort. "Whatever this is, we'll- we'll figure it out."

Brianna couldn't watch as she put a loving arm around the mute woman, her eyes sad and her voice soothing as empty assurances broke past her lips. The sight was enough to make her remember. It made her remember a woman who didn't matter, a woman who didn't exist, it made her remember a woman who had no place here, not even in memory.

"Don't worry," Sunny assured her. "I'm your sunshine, remember?"

The glint of something golden caught her eye. She headed towards the fountain, eyes widening when she found the glittering coins that lay within. She scooped them up and made for the vending machine up 'd seen the model somewhere before - in some old pre-war book, maybe - and approached it with haste. Dog followed along uncertainly while she attempted to work out the controls.

"Swipe for food, insert coins, then-"

She took a startled step back as the holographic image of a box of Instamash began to take form. Actual, physical form. The screen began to glow, tiny atoms of light bunching together and shaping themselves into a tangible box of mashed potatoes, sitting right there in front of her. She stared at in amazement before taking it in her hands, quickly slotting the rest of the coins in until her pockets were empty and her arms were full. C

"Master here?" Dog questioned, as she set the food out on the fountain for the two scribes. "Bring food? Dog can feel hunger growing. Dog- needs to- hurt-"

_"Dog. Back in the cage."_

Christine watched the mutant suspiciously as Brianna lowered her Pip-Boy. He returned the look with a malicious grin.

"What have we here? Why, it's a little doll. Were you carved by a craftsman, little doll? Or by a drunk who didn't know his tools?" He moved closer, studying her. Christine shrunk back. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. Yet. Much. Scars tell a story, and that one on your throat tells a particularly bloody one. Someone wanted to cut your voice, little doll, but they didn't do the job right. Didn't finish their work, or didn't know how."

She rose to her feet, fists clenched.

"No, no, it wasn't me. I have no use for your neck beyond what encircles it. The lack of screams when I finally kill you, that is what I'll-"

"You're really not a people person, are you?" Brianna grumbled. "Lighten up or I put you back in that cage."

"No, you can't," he replied. "If I see you move for that collar around your wrist, I'll snap your little porcelain body in half."

"Nice try, mutant, but your life's tied to mine. One of us dies and that collar in your stomach explodes."

He gave a low chuckle, blatantly insincere. "That would be very inconvenient for the Old Man, wouldn't it? Just remember what I told you back in the police station. If I die, I still win. The Old Man would be lost without his Dog to fetch him prisoners. Wouldn't that be a pity?"

"At this rate, Dog's gonna come out all on his own. I bet he's hungry in there."

He grunted. "He'll need to hunt soon. Your human food won't do anything for his greed. It's strange, though, how he brought two of you here. Dog tends to eat his prisoners while they're caught in his traps. He'll save one for the Old Man of course, drag one back here and strap a bomb collar around their neck just as he's told. But he's never brought two at a time- and the brute's hunger isn't subsiding. I can hear him howling, even now, for sustenance. So why?" He moved closer, inspecting Brianna thoroughly before moving onto Veronica, who returned the calculating gaze. "What did he see in you?"

"I'll be sure to ask him as soon as he comes back out."

"I'll tear that collar from your wrist and force it down your throat, don't think I can't."

"Take another step, go on. Before you reach me, I'll be scratching you behind the ears and calling you a_ good boy."_

"You think you have this all figured out, don't you? You think you still have the same amount of control as you did before you came here. But our manacles and chains are just the same. You are as much a prisoner as I am, and the beast inside me was the one who put you here. I can see it in your eyes, human. I can see the hunger there, the hope. You think you'll be one to end this, to open the Sierra Madre again. You think you'll survive the Cloud, the traps, the residents, _me. _You think that you'll survive where hundreds have perished before."

"You said it could be different this time, didn't you?"

"And maybe I was right. But even if you succeed, it won't matter. It won't matter what you do, how well you work together, how much you trust each other. It will still be one of you, just one, who leaves this place. Nothing on this earth is more predictable, more easily manipulated than human nature. It's just as the Old Man always says. Dog and I have seen it countless times. Once you get in there, you'll forget about your freedom, forget about your home and your life and your friendship_. _None of that will save you from the downfall of human nature. None of that will take away the greed."_  
><em>

"How would you know a goddamn thing about human nature?"

"Because I see it broken every day I spend in this place."

"We don't have time for this," Veronica interjected, her expression stony. "We've got another newspaper to fetch."

Brianna glanced down at her Pip-Boy. "Residential District, not far. Says his name is Dean Domino."

"And why does that sound weirdly familiar?"

Christine stood up.

"You're coming too?" Brianna asked. "Think you can protect yourself out there?"

She raised an eyebrow and drew an invisible circle with her finger.

"Brotherhood training, right. What exactly can you do?"

She huffed an invisible sigh before miming the act of throwing a grenade, jumping back and moving her arms slightly to indicate an explosion. She went on to form two pistols with her hands, firing them at a non-existent target before finishing it off with a mimed sniper rifle. She performed a few quick melee attacks, pretending to hold something that might have been an axe or a club, then ended the charade with a number of tight punches.

"So, everything?"

Christine nodded. Brianna felt a lump rising in her throat as she shrugged the holorifle off her shoulder and handed it to her. She took it with a grateful smile, taking some ammo from her pockets and reloading the weapon.

"Dog, stay here," Brianna instructed. "Don't kill yourself."

"I'm not Dog," the mutant growled.

"Then what do I call you?" She snapped. _"God?"_

"Actually, yes. I believe that would be a fitting name."

* * *

><p>The Villa was quiet. As they walked through the archways, Brianna realised for the first time just how deathly silent the Sierra Madre was without her collar beeping, when the voice on her Pip-Boy wasn't hissing fervent commands. She suddenly missed the sound of conversation, the sound of unseen creatures scuttling through brambles, the sound of howling in the distance that confirmed the existence of life somewhere else. There was no dancing in the Sierra Madre. There were no feet falling steadily into rhythm, no poorly stifled laughter or the clinking of beer bottles or the cawing of crows that circled overhead.<p>

There was no life here. There were only secrets and traps and inhabitants that could not possibly exist in the nature she knew, in the nature she loved and missed with all her heart. There was only the scraping of metal against ceramic as she stole coins from the fountains and stuffed them into her pockets, only the lightest tapping of feet against stone, the shaky exhalations of breath and the ringing absence of unsaid words.

Brianna's grip tightened around her spear as she scanned the area. They were moving slowly past deserted buildings, their well-preserved walls remarkably intact, ruined only by the graffiti that seemed to appear more and more often as they crept closer into the district. A sign post they passed had told them that they were about to enter the _Solida del Sol. _A scribble of graffiti later on read **MADRE'S MINE, MINE, MINE!**

"Where do you think he found the red paint?" Veronica wondered.

No one laughed. The silence continued until they passed through the door to the Residential District.

_"Picking up signals near your location. Detonators. Watch for traps."_

Christine bristled at the sound of Elijah's voice. Brianna could feel the tension in her muscles just by walking next to her, and after a quick glance she saw that her jaw was clenched, her fists tight by her sides as they continued on. Just up ahead was a staircase leading into the white building ahead. Her Pip-Boy marker told her to go straight on, so she did.

Until something began to beep.

At first she thought the noise was coming from her collar. She searched the area for a speaker and-

Christine grabbed Veronica by the wrist and yanked her backwards as the world was swallowed by a deafening explosion.

For a moment, everything was gone. Everything was white and red and ringing.

_"It'll be okay. It'll be okay, just show me your hand. Show me your hand. Show me your hand, Sunny!"_

_You've seen this before you've seen this before you've seen this before show me your hand show me your hand show me your hand._

_"Help her. She's dying, Please, she- she's dying, she-"_

She could breathe again.

She could see.

She could see Sunny cradling her arm- no, _no, _she could see Veronica holding Christine holding a glass of vodka and coke and gasping for air as she fixed the radio as she recovered from the shock of the explosion and laughing as she took down another ant and she was looking at her with confusion and worry and joy because _"This is the best day of my whole life!" _and _"Hey, are you alright?" _And _"Sunshine doesn't go away sunshine doesn't go away sunshine doesn't go away doesn't doesn't doesn't __doesn't - g__o - a__way."_

"Fine," she croaked. "Up the steps. Look out for more traps."

Veronica gave her a look of uncertainty before heading up the steps. Christine followed, but slowed enough for Brianna to catch up. When the two were standing side-by-side, she stopped to give Brianna a questioning look.

"I don't know what you mean," she said, as the mute tapped her fingers against her head.

Christine pulled a reluctant face before pointing to both of her temples and swirling her fingers around.

"Am I crazy? Really?" She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Christine dragged her fingers down her cheeks.

"Crying. Going crazy. You're asking if something bad happened?"

She nodded.

"Yeah. Something bad happened."

She gave Brianna a sympathetic half-smile and an encouraging thumbs-up.

"Somehow that's been the most reassuring thing I've seen in days."

Christine grinned ruefully.

"I just deactivated a tripwire," Veronica announced. "Should be safe to go in."

* * *

><p>They barely made it through the Residential District alive. If the ghost people hadn't been dead on the ground when they got there, Brianna knew they wouldn't have survived. They managed to get through by heading inside the nearest building, jumping off a balcony and traversing across the district through the trap-rigged buildings. A rigged shotgun would have sent a bullet through Brianna's midsection were it not for Veronica's keen eye. A scrawl of graffiti on the door of the next building told them that <strong>THE FLOORS HAVE TEETH. <strong>In there they'd found a number of bear traps waiting for them with hungry open mouths. There were metal beams swinging through doors and explosives carefully hidden under nondescript furniture. When they made it out again, they found that the building across the courtyard had a gaping hole exploded right through it, eating up most of the wall, which was decorated with softly glowing lights. Beyond the Cloud's haze, she could just make out a figure seated there, admiring the view.

After a few explosions and another swinging beam, they were standing right behind him.

Collar 14.

"I'll go," Brianna mouthed. There was only one free chair. "Keep watch outside."

They whispered her luck and headed silently down the stairs. Brianna sucked in a breath and walked calmly across the room, her footsteps just loud enough to hear above the humming radio on the table. With a sudden sharp pang in her chest, she realised that she knew all the words. She'd heard the song in New Vegas, maybe, or from some old road trip with people she'd said goodbye to long ago.

_"When an irresistible force such as you,_

_meets an old immovable object like me,_

_you can bet just as sure as you live,_

_Something's gotta give,_  
><em>something's gotta give,<em>  
><em>something's gotta give."<em>

"The Sierra Madre. Beauty, isn't she?" Collar 14 exhaled a cloud of smoke and invited her to sit. "She the one who invited you here?"

She took a seat and knew at once that Dean Domino was a ghoul. His flesh was thick and red in some places, but so thin in others that his brain was fully visible, streaked with jagged blue veins. He had no ears or nose to support his dark sunglasses, so they were wedged by the hinges into his partially-decayed flesh, and the bridge just about balanced on the middle of his face. He wore a sharp black suit with a white bow tie crumpled beneath the collar around his neck. What surprised her was his voice, smooth and clear with a strange Old World accent. She'd never met any ghoul who spoke like that.

"Nice place you've got here," she replied, lifting the half-empty bottle from the table next to her. "Mind if I help myself?"

"Not at all, dear, not at all. Just don't get up or make any sudden movements, no matter how uncomfortable that chair gets. The cushion's just for show."

"Oh, shit," she replied, taking a long sip and shuddering at the burning taste in her throat. "What the hell am I drinking?"

He laughed. "That's what you're worried about? Ah, I see, it's time for a guessing game. I have to decide if you're crazy or just a few bars short of the full melody, is that it? My guess is that you're neither. Too captivated by my voice, by my charm, to notice that you just sat yourself down on a shaped fuse, that must be right. No matter. Get up without my permission and I'll blast your ass so far through your head, it'll paint the moon cherry pie red. So, let's keep this sweet and polite, shall we? Finish our conversation with no... misunderstandings."

"I'll save my questions for the end," she smiled. "Go right ahead."

"And that's what I've missed!" He declared, sitting back comfortably in his chair. "A rapt audience!"

"Oh, I promise I'll be _very_ attentive. Best not slip up."

"I don't plan on it. Just because I work in entertainment doesn't mean I'm a moron, you know. I heard my necktie beeping, I know what that means. I'm part of this somehow, and I want out of this contract. So whatever's going on here, if _you're _a part of all this, then you'll be taking orders from me."

"Well, that's strange. It almost sounds like you're bargaining from a position of strength."

"What do you mean?"

"These little collars of ours, they're linked. One goes off and the rest of them start tick-tick-ticking."

"Ah, I see. What an interesting clause." His last word broke off into hearty laughter. "Looks like marriage finally caught me, then!"

"It's a blast, really."

"Must have cost a bomb to organise."

"But it's explosive fun, right?"

They collapsed into sniggers. Brianna passed Dean Domino his drink, letting him take a generous mouthful before he handed it back.

"Alright, alright, what do you propose we do, partner? What's next?"

"You let me get off this chair for a start. Then you meet my friends outside and we go back to the casino to find out more about this contract."

"Not leaving me much choice, hm? I'll follow you and your little pals, then - certainly not going alone. Not that I'm a coward or anything, I'm just not running around town without an escort. The locals are big fans, I wouldn't want to get swarmed. See, I know what's out there. That's why there's a minefield, shotguns and bear traps leading up to my little boudoir here."

"That was you?"

"Nice to see that my work's been recognised."

"Your work almost got us all killed."

"And now it's all gone, I'd imagine. All blown up because you're too clumsy or too stupid to disarm the things. Had to go running past them, hoping you didn't step on one. Believe me, I heard the explosions from all the way up here - and so did the ghost people, I'm sure. They'll be running up here like lovestruck broads just waiting to steal me away. Either that or they'll just reset all the traps you left intact. That's what they do, see. They'll rearm all the bear traps they come across, reload the shotguns if they know how. You've made this game even more dangerous."

"I like dangerous, and it looks like you do too. Maybe this is the start of a beautiful partnership."

She held out her hand. Dean shook it firmly.

"I'm Brianna O'Reilly."

"Dean Domino. But you knew that."


	37. Mixed Signals

**THE VILLA**

**error:unknown**

**redirecting...**

**redirecting...**

**redirecting...**

"Ah, there she is again," Dean Domino chuckled, clapping his hands together. "Vera darling, lovely to see you! How are you, my dear?"

The hologram didn't respond.

Veronica gazed up at the female hologram, standing with one hand on its hip as it gazed out at the ruin of the Sierra Madre. "You knew her?"

"We were acquainted. Guess she got lost among the rest of the holo-archives when The Bomb hit. Shame, that."

"Who was she?"

"Vera Keyes, ghost in name and image. She was a big star back before The Bomb. Not much good at acting, but she had other talents. Nice voice, nice legs."

Dean moved closer to the fountain, studying the hologram with a look of appraisal. Until it flashed into Elijah's face.

"New boyfriend, dear?" He asked, taking an alarmed step back as Brianna headed towards the fountain.

"Alright, Elijah, we're all here. Now what do you want?"

_"Where's the reject? You can't do it without the fool's brute strength."_

She raised her Pip-Boy, searching for the mutant's signal. "Dog's close. Close enough to hear your voice, I'll bet. He'll come running to you soon."

_"Good. Well done. Now for the festivities - and your parts in all this."_

"I always considered myself a solo performer," Dean muttered below his breath.

_"The owner of the Sierra Madre," _Elijah went on,_ "for whatever reason, keyed the Grand Opening to the Gala Event itself. It needs to be fired off in order for the casino doors to open. As I've discovered, one person can't do it. So get your team into the positions I've marked on your Pip-Boy then trigger it properly. I'll tell you where to continue from there. If you work together, trust each other, the Sierra Madre will open tonight. My advice?" He lowered his voice, though it was very much audible as he continued, "be wary of the extra. Collar 22, she's the only one who's not supposed to be here."_

"You mean me?" Veronica snapped. "None of us are supposed be here. What happened to you? Why are calling me by a goddamn number like you don't even know my name?" Dean hastily slid aside to allow her a place below the hologram. "I'm Veronica! I was your friend, Elijah, you know me! I was the only one who never thought you were insane, even after everything! But now I know." She took a deep breath. "This is what you were talking about. That message at the comm station, this is what you meant. You're not looking for treasure in this place, are you? There's something else. A weapon. This is how you plan on saving the Brotherhood, isn't it?"

_"She's unruly,"_ Elijah continued, as if she hadn't spoke. _"She doesn't have a role in this, doesn't have a place. Nothing's stopping her from marching over to the gates and being the first one to gain entrance as soon as they open. Actually, that isn't quite right. There is a way to get rid of her, if that's what you want. She's only alive thanks to Dog's foolishness, so I gave the mutant more specific instructions after he brought you both here. Collar 22 is an old collar, one that was discarded after I decided to tune the rest of them together, synchronise their frequencies."_

Christine shook her head, features twisted with hatred.

"You can't do that! What have you done, Elijah? What have you become?"

"What's he talking about?" Brianna demanded. "What does he mean?"

_"It's simple,"_ Elijah rasped. _"The collars were not originally connected. Used to be that I was the only one who could trigger the explosion. I synchronised the collars of the last team and found that it was a far more effective method of controlling them, so I had synchronised collars put on all of you. Except for hers. Collar 22 can detonate without triggering the others. You can kill her now, get rid of her before she becomes a threat."_

Christine pointed accusingly at the hologram, mouth opening and closing as she tried hopelessly to speak. She used two fingers of one hand to form a walking motion atop the palm of the other. Then she drew back one of the fingers, leaving only the middle which she raised pointedly in Elijah's direction. To convey the message further, she stepped away from Veronica and drew an invisible line between them, then pointed again at Elijah's face, mouthing the word _you._

_"Yes, yes, you were separated, I know, but a tragic tale of heartbreak won't sway me into releasing you. I would suggest, 22, that you give the team a reason to trust you. It would be unfortunate if you were to perish here in the Madre. But if any of you plan on killing her, I would suggest getting it over with. This is the time to start trusting each other, working together. This is where the real work begins."_

Brianna cracked just a little bit more. She could feel pieces of herself falling away with every word of accusation, with every scratch of her nails on her palms. "Real work?!" She yelled. "What exactly is 'real work' to you?! You dragged us here unconscious, strapped bomb collars around our throats and told us to fetch! Is that not real work?!"

_"You know this isn't some simple fetching mission, some cheap casino heist. No. This is The Heist of the Centuries. We're not plundering the Sierra Madre, we're plundering history. Taking from the Old World itself. It won't let its secrets go easily, not without a fight. The outlying areas of the Villa are thicker with the Cloud, filled with Villa inhabitants, traps, toxins. If you want to survive this place, use your team as I use you. Listen to your collar, watch your step, and don't be stupid. You're no use to me dead."_

His image disappeared from the fountain.

"This is insane," came Veronica's trembling voice. "I never thought he was like this. I never thought he could _be_ like this. I knew he didn't agree with the others, I knew he wanted something more, but- but not _this! _What is this?!" She turned to Brianna. "Something, _something _inside me wants to say I'll never forgive you for this. But, God, I have this other stupid part of me that's saying it's supposed to be this way."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I don't know why I want to forgive him for all of this, for trapping us here, for wanting me dead. But it's ironic, isn't it? The Brotherhood, we've only ever wanted Old World technology, to keep it safe, to keep it for ourselves so no one else can take it. And now it looks like I'm going to die for it. To get whatever's locked up in there, whatever's going to 'save' us. I've spent such a long time waiting for the Brotherhood to just burn out. Waiting for that slow or sudden end. And here it is."

Christine looked to the ground, tracing a circle absently around her arm. Brianna hadn't noticed the tattoo before, hadn't paid close enough attention to the see the image she was tracing around. Three cogs inside a circle, with a sword going up the middle. The Brotherhood's symbol.

"This isn't how it ends," Brianna insisted, wishing that it was. "This isn't how you die, Veronica. It can't be." Her voice cracked. "I don't want you to be like me."

"If we're thinking realistically," Dean interjected, strolling towards them and taking a long drag from his cigarette. "There would be nothing stopping me from putting a bullet between this lovely woman's eyes. And that Dog creature, whatever he is, would thank me for saving him the trouble of mauling her to death when he thinks no one's looking. So you're quite right," he concluded. "I believe this might just be where it ends for you, my dear."_  
><em>

"I know we're married now, Domino, but lay a finger on her and I'll kill you."

"And kill yourself in the process, which certainly won't help her."

"Then I'll just ruin your goddamn life instead."

"Maybe we should see other people."

"Or maybe you crazy bastards could just not try to kill me," Veronica suggested with a weak laugh. "Sudden end or not, I'd like to die heroically."

Christine's face wrinkled into a reluctant smile before another voice became audible.

"So, are we on our way somewhere else?" Asked God. "A Gala Event, perhaps?"

Brianna's hand tensed on the pistol at her belt as the mutant lumbered towards them.

"You heard that?" She questioned. "All of it?"

"His voice travels all around this place. Yes, I heard. I also heard about your friend's... unfortunate situation."

Christine stepped in front of her.

"I could break you in half with one hand, little doll. But don't worry. I'll make sure to save you for last."

Christine seemed to groan silently, glowering at God as she marched towards Brianna and grabbed her roughly by the arm.

"Hey- Jesus, what the hell?!"

The mute ignored her, tilting her head slightly to one side as she scanned and tapped, searching through her Pip-Boy's map markers and pulling the map in closer when she found what must have been the correct one. On the upper right corner, Brianna found the words **Puesta Del Sol Switching Station **glowing in a clear amber font. Christine breathed a silent sigh, flicking back to the World Map to get a clear view of the rest of the markers. There were four. Her eyes locked on Veronica, then back to Brianna, clearly worried.

Dean seemed to take the hint. "So, Veronica. That's your name, isn't it? Knew a lot of Veronicas back before The Bomb killed them all. Why don't you come over here and I'll tell you all about that?"

"He was right," Brianna said, as Veronica was dragged out of earshot. "There's no place for her here- she's a spare. Is that why he wants her dead?"

She shook her head, mouth opening and closing as she tried to force words out. She released Brianna's arm, gesturing towards the fountain before dragging a finger across her throat.

"He wants you dead too?"

She shook her head again.

"There's something you're not telling us. Something you don't want Veronica to know."

She nodded, lifting Brianna's arm again and pointing to the map marker at the switching station. She gestured towards herself, then repeated the gesture of pointing to a different map marker and gestured at God, who was watching them idly from a distance. She did the same motion for Dean's marker, then for Brianna's. After she finished this charade, she pointed to Brianna and made a walking motion with her fingers.

"That's the order you want? You, God, Dean, and me?"

She nodded.

"And why can't we go own our own? Wouldn't that speed things up?"

She pursed her lips, looking concerned as she attempted to mime a response. She gestured towards Dean then made a familiar twirling action around her head with her fingers. She pointed at God and made a motion with her arms like someone rattling a cage.

"The ghoul's nuts and the mutant's dangerous, that makes sense. But why am _I_ playing babysitter?"

The darting of her eyes said enough. They both glanced in Veronica's direction.

"You really think you can protect her?"

It looked as if she was about to nod, but she stopped herself. Shrugged.

"Hey, I get it. She can come with us. Why does Elijah want you at the switching station?"

She frowned, then pantomimed the act of typing at keys. She pointed at Brianna, raising her wrist and talking silently into it.

"Something to do with the machines in there? You're the only one who can operate them?"

She nodded, then looked at Veronica again and gestured forwards in an urgent motion.

"You're right. Let's go."

* * *

><p>The Puesta Del Sol was different from the Villa. Brianna knew that as soon as they stepped through the door, past the faded black lettering that told them to enjoy their stay. The toxic haze had dissipated into the air, leaving the sky above to glow in a sickly yellow swirl of clouds. Trees stretched up beyond the heights of the walls and arches, gnarled silhouettes against the unnatural sky. The paint was peeling from the wall to their right, which opened up into what looked like a small store. They made their way inside, weapons at the ready. Elijah had promised that there would be plenty of residents here to greet them.<p>

He was right.

A distorted shadow crawled backwards through a large gap in the wall ahead. Its palms were flat on the ground, fingers all snapped and brutally twisted at extreme angles. Its limbs jerked as it crawled along the tiles, legs twisting impossibly around as it wrapped its broken fingers around a busted cooker and pulled itself up. The fixation of its gaze was bathed in green as the gas mask zombie looked around, searching the area for its prey.

Brianna fired three shots into its face before its eyes could lock on hers.

And the air burst into flames.

It happened in a ringing blast and a flash of light. She dropped to the ground. A wave of heat washed over her head. Her chin slammed on the floor, teeth clashing against each other. She squeezed her eyes shut and watched the fireworks exploding behind her eyes. When the flames past, she struggled to her feet and fell back against the table behind her. The ghost person was twitching on the ground, hazmat suit bubbling away. She headed for it, taking one of her spears and stabbing down until she heard a tiny shriek. When she turned back, she found Christine leaning against the counter, her face contorted with pain. Her eyes were closed, her right leg jiggling restlessly. When she moved closer, Brianna saw her arm. It was red and glistening was blood, blistering in places and peeling off like a blood-soaked rag in others. Christine's face grew paler with every heaving breath.

As Veronica searched frantically for a stimpak, Med-X, a bandage, Brianna found herself standing still. She stared at Christine's arm with idle fascination, watched as the skin peeled back and cringed away from the burn that feasted on her. When she turned around to check on Veronica, the scribe was tearing through her jumpsuit with wild strength, ripping through the right arm and pulling at the torso. Christine shook her head fiercely, moving to Veronica's side and trying to force her hands away as tears spilled down her face. Veronica was persistent, taking the spear from her belt and slicing at her trouser fabric until she'd created a makeshift bandage out of the strips she tore away. Christine grasped her throat and mimed a person choking, pointing at Veronica's exposed skin.

"Brianna, help me with this," Veronica urged. "What should I do?"

"She needs Med-X, Veronica. She needs a doctor."

"Yeah? Well that's a little inconvenient."

Brianna turned away and rooted through the cupboards for alcohol. She came back with a bottle of vodka and two shots of Med-X, but there were no stimpaks in sight. She handed the bottle to Veronica, who began to ramble apologies as Brianna injected the first shot into Christine's neck. "You'll get the next one after this," she promised, as Veronica doused the burning wound in alcohol. Christine's lips parted in a silent scream as she thrashed violently against the counter. Brianna administered the next shot, which seemed to calm her down a fraction as the bandage was wrapped around her arm.

"We make an excellent pair," Sunny said.

Nobody said much after that. The Puesta Del Sol was a maze, nearly impossible to navigate even with the map at Brianna's wrist. As the Cloud grew thicker, the map grew less and less reliable. Lines would flicker and blur into each other; sections of different areas would disappear then reappear some place else. Her Pip-Boy was no longer reading her vital signs, leaving all the health bars empty. So they continued blind, passing through houses filled with skeletons, graffiti scribbled everywhere they looked. Sometimes the messages were taunts.

**NEVER GONNA FIND ME.**

**DIE, FUCKERS.**

**CAN'T CATCH ME, I'M THE GINGERBREAD MAN.**

Sometimes they were warnings.

**EYES UP.**

**TICK, TICK, TICK.**

**BOOM!**

And sometimes they were completely unintelligible.

**WHY DID THE BOMB COLLAR CROSS THE ROAD? TO GET TO THE OTHER EXPLOSION!**

**ARE YOU MY MUMMY?**

**FIN**ᗡ** GO**ᗡ** IN TH**Ǝ** **Ƨ**IMPL**Ǝ**ST OF BƎA**Ƨ**T**Ƨ****

But they found the switching station at the top of a long set of steps, Cloud tumbling down the slope. So they ran, blinded and choking, until they were through the door and inside some dingy old room with peeling paint and busted lights. Brianna was the first to step in, her throat burning. Christine's breaths were heavy and sweat was dripping from her forehead as they stepped further and further away from the door.

The place was littered with ancient terminals, all lying in broken heaps atop a long desk against the left wall. The room opened out further to their right, revealing a large metal door and a number of beeping control panels. As Brianna moved for the door, a loud crackling noise sent her jumping back.

"What the hell?!" She retreated another few steps. Her collar was emitting some kind of static sound.

Christine frowned, moving next to her and taking a step forward. Her own collar crackled just as much for another few seconds.

But Veronica's beeped instead.

Christine found it first, an old ham radio hidden beneath the control panels. She quickly sent a blue beam flying in its direction.

"What was that?" Brianna asked. "Was that you?"

She shrugged, then nodded decisively and pointed at her collar. Then at Brianna's. She linked both of them with her finger, then pushed downwards into the air with her hands.

"Must be the collar frequency, right?" Veronica guessed. "Looks like you can dampen the signal somehow, slow down the radio interference."

Christine seemed to agree, nodding her head and repeating the downward motion with her hands.

"Then are you sure you wanna go first?" Brianna asked. "That could help me out with the others."

Christine's eyes widened in panic.

"Actually," Veronica replied hastily, "it's probably a one-on-one thing because of the different collar frequencies."

Christine nodded in agreement.

"Just you and me, huh? How romantic."

The mute glared at her.

"Kidding," she breathed, moving towards the door, which opened in front of her with a loud creak and a groan.

She was greeted by a jagged scrawl on the wall ahead, displaying the words **TICK, TICK, TICK.****  
><strong>

She reached for her pistol and swerved right. A radio was positioned on the upper corner of the wall until she sent a bullet whizzing through it.

* * *

><p>The beeping was enough to drive her insane. Everywhere they turned, every goddamn corner came with that deafening crackle before it died down into the familiar <em>beep... beep... beep. <em>They passed through seemingly endless corridors lined with computers and speakers until finally the next door led them into a huge room filled with high metal walkways. Brianna's jaw hurt from gritting her teeth for so long as they climbed endless steps to even higher walkways, her lungs fighting the toxins that rose up from the floor below. They came across weaker strips of metal that collapsed beneath the weight of one foot, and more and more radios and speakers threatened to blow off her head as they went along. But in the end they found it, another metal door that, according to her Pip-Boy, marked the very place they were looking for.

Christine's face was bloodless as the door opened. Her muscles trembled as if she was fighting the urge to flee. As Brianna stepped into the terminal room, followed by Veronica, she stopped entirely. Her eyes were locked on the elevator ahead. She pointed to the door uneasily, then made a pulling motion with her hand.

"Elijah put something down on the Objectives," Brianna said. "Says you have to go down to the manual bypass room and regulate the power."

She shook her head, taking a step back from the elevator. She raised her hands, then lowered them. Raised them again.

"What the hell are you motioning about?" She snapped. "We don't have time, alright?"

Christine glared at her, wrapping her arms around herself and shaking her head again.

"This is because of the auto-doc, right?" Veronica asked. "Is that why you're not going down there?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"Hey, you didn't have a problem with enclosed spaces when you were sneaking me into store rooms. I'll be there with you, okay?"

_No, _she mouthed, stepping back and continuing to shake her head. _No, no, no, no, no._

"Just get into the elevator!" Brianna yelled. "If you can't do this, Elijah will blow our fucking heads off and use the next person who can!"

Christine looked terrified. She backed into the terminal, trembling in fear as her eyes darted from Brianna to the elevator.

Veronica reached for Brianna's arm, taking a tight hold of it and pulling her back. She maintained a vice-like grip on her forearm, eyes burning with anger. "If you even _think _about shoving her in there-"_  
><em>

"You'll kill me?" Brianna barked out a laugh and pulled out her gun. Aimed it right at Christine's head. "Not if you want her alive."

"Brianna, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You think I care what happens to me now? I don't. Sure, I want out. I want to go to Heaven, I want to go home, I want a lot of things. But we never had a goddamn hope of getting out of here, Veronica, I was just along for the ride. I'm _dead, _remember? I'm a fucking corpse and I don't care what happens to me. Elijah can blow my brains out if he wants, I couldn't care less. But I've been trying my best to keep going, to pretend like this is all gonna be okay, because I care about you, because you deserve a chance. So I'm gonna make this simple, Veronica. Get her in there, or watch us all die."

The pistol was twisted from her grip. It clattered on the floor. The tip of a spear was shoved against her throat. She laughed as Veronica backed her against the wall.

"Look at you," she spat. "There's nothing left of you. You don't care about a goddamn thing anymore and now you're nothing at all. You were right, Brianna. You're a corpse. You never left New Vegas, you died in that place, you gave up and the world just swallowed you whole. You're a coward. You're the biggest coward I've ever met. You lie to yourself, you pretend you're in control, you drag other people into Hell with you because you're too afraid to face it yourself. And you know what the worst thing is? I believed you when you said you knew what you were doing, when you said you could change the world. But you never had a chance." She stepped back from her. "Go. I can transfer control to this station. You can go start your next fetching mission. It's all you've ever been good at."


	38. Fires in the Sky

**SALIDA DEL SOL**

**error: unknown**

**re-directing...**

**re-directing...**

**re-directing...**

_"There's nothing left of you."_

The Harvester leapt towards her, gas bomb in hand.

_"You don't care about a goddamn thing anymore and now you're nothing at all."_

She sidestepped. Threw it against the wall and drove the point of her spear through its skull.

_"You never left New Vegas, you died in that place."_

The mutant was at her back, smashing the head of another between his fists.

_"You gave up and the world just swallowed you whole."_

She swerved, stepping out into the courtyard to break away from the horde of ghost people.

_"Oh, have a cigarette and relax, dear. We're trying to make the best out of this bomb-marriage, aren't we?"_

God grabbed one of them by the arm and slammed it down onto the pavement.

_"Fine, fine, but it's simple, really. You just have to be able to identify them."_

One was coming at her from ahead, bear traps snapping from the stumps that used to be its hands.

_"Harvesters are the rabble in this place - ones with the spears."_

She took a quick look over her shoulder and saw the Harvester waiting, sizing her up and readying its spear.

_"Trappers are responsible for all the damn tripwires. Sneaky bastards."_

She ran for it, grabbing the spear out of its hand. She held it like a baseball bat, slamming it into the back of the Harvester's head.

_"And then you've got the Seekers. Don't worry about identifying those. You'll be on fire before you get close enough to try."_

She let God tear it apart, moving for the Trapper and firing three shots in its direction. Leg, arm, skull. It collapsed with a scream and a thud.

"We'll need to move faster than this if we're going to outwit the old man," God grumbled, stepping down on the final Harvester's spine.

"Outwit?" Brianna glanced at her Pip-Boy, but she knew the map would only provide her with the general direction she had to follow in order to reach God's position. It wouldn't help her navigate the ruins of old houses or find her way forward via the rooftops. It seemed like every clear path on the map was blocked off by rubble, crawling with more ghost people than she dared try to count.

"What do you mean?" She continued, heading up the steps into a small, deserted home. "We set off the Gala Event and he lets us go, right?"

"No. Not quite."

"Not quite?" She turned on her heels. "If you're hiding something from me, I'd suggest you spit it out before I pull the words out of your goddamn throat."

"Go ahead, open my throat if you think that's where the truth lies. But if you think this story has a happy ending, then you haven't been paying attention."

"You have my full attention now. So talk."

"I will. As long as you keep moving."

So she did. He explained everything, hushed and hurried as they passed through ruined buildings and moved out onto the winding streets.

"The Sierra Madre has been opened before. The only reason we're still here is because something got left inside. The Old Man," he chuckled. "Elijah."

"So he's trapped in there." She slipped into another building to avoid the distorted shadows in the courtyard ahead. "Why didn't he set off the collars, then?"

"Because he couldn't. As soon as he made his way into the casino, it sealed up. The casino's construction allowed me an opportunity to escape. Signals got scrambled, some alloy in the architecture. I wasn't sure that I had won until the collars deactivated. They just... unhooked. I was free."

"So why are you still here?"

His jaw clenched. "Dog. All my work, all my effort, all gone because the beast came out."

"What do you mean?"

"He went charging off to drag new people here, unaware that his master was locked in a cage somewhere inside the casino. And he didn't kill your friend, remember? Wanted to impress his master, knew he'd done something wrong. But the fool got hungry again while you both were lying unconscious and he charged off to find something else to eat. I had to stop him. I was given a few precious moments of control as we got near the police station, so I locked us both in that cage before he could come out again. I didn't know about the Pip-Boy. I didn't know that the moment you woke up, that signal would come alive once again, kicking me in the gut. And when you came to the police station, brought me out of the cage, there it was, coiled with a charge again like a snake."

"That doesn't make any sense. How did _I _reactivate the collars?"

"Because of that leash on your wrist, boosting the signal," he snarled. "You started things all over again without even realising it. Elijah must have one those devices on his arm too. Must have installed a contingency switch. If the signal gets cut off, well, then we'll all die. He seems to breathe Old World technology, that man. It would be almost impossible for anyone to install a dead man's switch like that without any direct access to your device, but he managed it. If only it had been that woman, just that woman he dragged here with you. Then, collar or no, we'd all be free to just leave this place behind."

"None of this is my fault," she defended, wishing she could believe it.

"Isn't it?"

"I didn't know it would be like this. And I wasn't the one who put you here."

"No. You were the one who _kept _me here."_  
><em>

"Then let me help you," she insisted. "Let me get you out."

"Trying to use your own guilt to sway me? No. I know what you're doing and I know where we're going. To those switches, isn't it? I remember them, just vaguely. It was Dog the last time, powering them up. Don't know how he got out alive, though. He doesn't tell me much about it, doesn't like to share. But I'm not as easily broken as he is. If you think you can force me into that place-"

"What choice to we have? You want out of this place, right? Then you have to go to that marker and do what the Old Man wants."

"Or I could crush your spine beneath my foot and end his control at last."

"Then why not do it already?! Break my spine, crush my skull, rip my heart out, do whatever you want, right now."

He paused. "No. Not yet."

"Why?"

"I've done everything, everything to try and keep him safe, keep him from hurting people, killing people, and- gah!"

He slammed a fist into the wall. The plaster crumbled beneath the heavy blow, leaving a giant hole in its place.

"Do you see this place? It's built like a house of cards, ready to collapse, and that Old Man keeps us here like animals while I try to calm Dog's mindless, howling instinct." His voice grew louder with every word. "After all that's laid ruin to the world, again and again, I finally thought we could be free! I thought Dog could be free! But no, the world's always got another cage waiting, keeping everything you want just out of reach."

"What did Elijah do?" She pressed, taking another step back as God laid further ruin upon the room.

"He makes Dog gather others, drag them here, fetch them like an animal. And he hurts them if they try to resist. Dog doesn't even blink, doesn't even hear their cries when he's crushing their legs beneath his weight, twisting their arms around full circle, turning them into these fragile things, screaming on the ground. He does whatever the Old Man wants, eager to serve as always. Even now you see his shadow, sense him waiting inside me, desperate to come out. You're waiting for the moment where I snap just long enough for the beast to emerge. You might have him chasing you like an excited puppy, but that won't last long. Nothing can stop him when the rage sets in his bones. When the beast gets hungry, I can barely hear my own screams beyond the chaos in his mind!"

He turned to her, seven feet of seething rage and deadly muscle. When he took a step forward, Brianna shrunk back. Her pulse had a raging electricity to it, like the collar, like a time bomb, like a frag mine, thumping faster and faster and faster before it finally exploded. Her back hit the wall.

"Does that scare you? Do_ I_ scare you? Tell me, little bird, are you afraid?"

"Yes." She didn't trust herself to say anything more. But she found something in her, a dying courage, that allowed her to go on. "But I know you care about him."

God straightened himself. Took a few steps back. "He's my brother. He's kin. Without him, I wouldn't exist. I'm nothing, nothing more than his conscience trying to rein him in. Useless. I just need him to show restraint, let go of the needs, the hungers, ease the burden, just once, so I can have my thoughts to myself. But he's relentless. I only exist because of the pain he inflicted on himself, the trauma he put himself through when he stuck his arms into bear traps, when he carved his own name into his chest."

"Why can't you control him?" She lowered her shaking voice in an attempt to calm the mutant down. He terrified her. Broken furniture was strewn around the room, wallpaper torn down in his fit of rage. She longed to have her pistol in hand, but knew that one sudden movement could send his fatal temper flaring up. "You're the smarter one, aren't you? You kept him in the cage long enough to lock yourself into another one. So why can't you control him?"

"He's just a child. He knows when he's doing something wrong but he can't help himself. His instinct is stronger than me. I don't know when I first spoke, when I first started thinking for myself, it was so long ago. I slept for a long time before he got a new Master. A new voice, drilling into his head, telling him to hurt others. So I woke up to protect him. I don't know if that makes me the strong one or not."

"What would happen if his Master's voice went away? What if we did open the casino tonight, what if we did leave this place?"

"I don't know. His hunger is wild and it will persist. But maybe I could rein him in. Maybe we could share this body peacefully."

"Exactly. So you'll trust me, right? You'll do what the Old Man says, just for now, until we get in there?"

"Trapped behind that old gate while music is blaring and sirens are screaming? Don't know if I can. But I'll try."

* * *

><p>"So, why does the Old Man want you here?" Brianna asked, her Pip-Boy displaying <strong>Salida Switching Station <strong>when she hovered over her marker. This was the place, she knew, nothing more than a row of five switches displayed along a wall, with an intricately designed gate serving to cut the place off from the rest of Salida Del Sol. Scribbled on the wall was a message.

**THƎ CAƧINO IƧ THƎ OLᗡ MAN'Ƨ COLLAЯ**

"Maybe it's familiar," God supposed, "comfortable. Practice makes perfect, doesn't it? Besides, I don't think any of your assembled band of thieves could rip a two- hundred-year-old power switch down like a machete to power up an entire town. As much as it bruises my ego to admit it, some things require brute strength. And the more I look at that gate, the more I'm deciding against this little plan."

"Why? Should be enough to protect you from the ghost people, right?"

"Judging by the terminal on that wall over there, yes, it should. The Villa was never properly built, not fit for endurance. But when there's a terminal around, you can tell that the nearby area has been built to last. But that's not my problem. If I refuse, try to run away or kill you, you'll lock me right back in the cage. That's the one thing you have over me. I could snap you like a twig, but you have the Old Man at your beck and call. I make a move for you and you'll give Dog the very thing he's been clawing for, won't you?"

"I'll do what I have to. You know that."

"Yes, I suppose you will. You're still at the stage in this heist where you think that all you want is your freedom. But at least I know you're being honest. So let's call this 'mutual need' rather than 'trust'. I know how to operate the switches in sequence to make the fire appear in the sky. We just need to make sure that Dog doesn't surface before that happens. I made sure he was fed, yes, but will that stop him from attempting to escape, find the Old Man, or you? I wonder."

"You need to control him. Even with Elijah's voice, I can't keep Dog calm if he decides he's getting hungry. You have to try."

"Control him? Didn't I already explain how that just isn't possible?"

"Please," she begged. "We have to do this tonight."

"Why the urgency?"

"Because we're dying out here. The air is sticking inside my lungs, God - sometimes I can barely breathe. We don't have time to wait. We just don't."

"If Dog gets out, this plan is doomed. I don't doubt the brute's ability to pull switches, of course, but he won't remember the correct sequence."

"Will a couple of ghost people keep him in there?"

"I hope," he replied, pushing past the gate and moving for the wall of switches. "And if you take one more step towards that terminal, try to lock the gate and leave me in here, you'd best hope that Dog stays in the cage as well."

"Relax," she assured. "There's information on it. A status report or something. I just want to check it out."

**WELCOME TO ROBCO INDUSTRIES [TM] TERMLINK**

**SET/TERMINAL/INQUIRE**

**RIT-V303203SSGawinngBSSU_ [ERROR]**

**SET FILE/ ERROR_ COMMAND NOT RECOGNISED**

**SET HALT RESTART / UNKNOWN_INFILT_**

**Initializing...**

**STATUS REPORT_**

**ajndf38291ww38329fbsBAHBF839_ [DATA CORRUPTED] Villa's like cardboard, but the casino? The place isn't sjfndj3892_ [ERROR] for them to take cover if the big ones hit. Those doors can be hermetically sealed and adnfu321_ [ERROR] screws up anything not hooked up direct by wires.**

**Word is, while Mr. Yesterday rw893hfs_ [ERROR] got the Villa covered, Sinclair's locking up the Sierra Madre like a golden trap.**

**EXIT_**

**STATUS REPORT_**

**GATE STATUS_ unlocked**

**LOCK GATE?**

**YES_**


	39. Strike Up The Band

**THE FOUNTAIN**

**error: unknown**

**re-directing...**

**re-directing...**

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"Kind of you to leave me here," Dean Domino said, gazing around the Villa as he lit up a cigarette. "The place is a bit shabby - could use a lick of paint, perhaps - but if you're used to the weather th- oh." His cigarette was an inch from his crumbling lips, not moving any further as he paused to study his approaching partner. "You don't look too happy, my dear."

"Neither do you," she spat. "Might have something to do with the fact that your face looks like a brahmin's crushed asshole."

He gave a reproachful snort. "I don't even know what a brahmin is, but I suppose it would be pointless to disagree. What's the problem, darling? Tough crowd at the Tampico?"

"You could say that." She sank down onto the fountain's edge. "Locked the mutant in the cage."

"Which one?"

"God."

"No, no, I mean which cage? The gate down in Sunrise or the one inside the poor bastard's head?"

"You know about the gate?"

"I do pay attention, you know, while you and your friends are huddling around that bracelet on your arm. I've seen the place before - that cage won't be opening any time soon, no matter how much he rattles it. No need to worry about the beast getting out. Not until the boss man needs him, that is."

"I'm not worried about getting killed by the mutant. It's just- hell, why do you care? I'm just like everyone else who got themselves stuck in here. Feel like the whole damn world's crumbling and my mind's going down with it. I tried to kill Christine," she admitted. "You know, the one the auto-doc carved up? I put a gun to her head, right in front of the only person in the world left to give a shit about her."

"Nice going, gorgeous. Did you forget that your little tantrums could be fatal to every one of us?"

"I didn't forget. I didn't care." She sighed, then gestured towards his cigarette. "Mind if I-?"

"Of course, of course."

Brianna accepted it gratefully and took a long drag. "We have a lot in common, you know."

"Really? Do enlighten me."

"We're both undying sons of bitches for a start."

"Quick - let's run a knife through each other and see who drops first."

She almost laughed. "No, I mean it. I'm a corpse. I know it doesn't make sense, I know Veronica says there's something wrong with me, but I'm dead. I'm either a corpse who took a wrong turn getting to the afterlife, or this godforsaken hellhole is all the Good Lord deemed me worthy of. Either way, my heart's not beating anymore and I don't feel a goddamn thing."

"Not even when the locals are throwing pointy sticks at your face?"

"Not even then," she lied, not knowing what to believe.

He took back his cigarette when she returned it. "So what killed you, hm? Who are you pressing charges against once we're out of here?"

"I don't think you can file a lawsuit against the biggest power in the Mojave Desert." She blew out a sigh. "I think I'm stuck in some kind of purgatory. Don't know what's gonna happen if we get ourselves free, but I've been thinking that maybe I'll go to Heaven. Never really believed in all that, but being a walking corpse kind of changes your perspective. Though I'm starting to think I'm already in Hell and there's nothing more I can do about it."

"Seems that way, doesn't it? The weather's atrocious, the meals are bloody awful and the locals are ridiculously over-welcoming."

Despite herself, she snorted. "Pre-war paradise, right?"

"Some top quality stars, at least. Can't find entertainment like this anywhere else. Literally, considering my last show sold out over two hundred years ago."

"God, are you _that _bad?"

"You're talking to a worldwide celebrity, dear. I've had prime billing in New York, London, Paris, I was a _star. _Could go back to that someday, if we ever make it out of here. But enough about old Dean, what about you? I've had the decency so far to keep quiet about the scar, but I'm curious about it. Don't get me wrong, it's like a bad brush stroke on a million dollar masterpiece."

She smiled. "Tell me how the hell you've spent two hundred years in this place without losing your mind and maybe I'll indulge you."

"It's all about the motive, beautiful, all about what drives you. Having a loose grip on my mental faculties and an awful lot of whiskey is a bonus. Can't get drunk easy, though, being the way I am. But I've had plenty of time to brew up something interesting, something strong. I call it a Casino Cocktail. Tastes like the Sierra Madre: old, bitter, hard to swallow. A lot like me, I know. As for my true intentions, well, why would I ever tell you that? Ulterior motives are best left unsaid and suspicious, it makes for an exciting plot twist when I finally let it slip. That good enough for you?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I used to be a hooker in post-apocalyptic Las Vegas after I lost everything I had to a bunch of thugs. I found some courier work, I got out, I thought I was free. Then some New Vegas prick tied me up and shot me in the head. And I got better. Tracked him down, shot him up, got myself all caught up in something far too big for me. I lost someone I cared about. I ran through fire with her on my mind. I had my throat cut, I almost drowned. I've been burned at the stake, I've been tortured for information, I've jumped off a cliff and had radscorpion venom injected into my bloodstream. You haven't seen half my scars, Domino. But this baby's the one I'm most proud of," she smiled, tapping her head.

He looked impressed. "I'll be disappointed if it's the Madre that takes you down."

"Trust me, darling, this bomb collar business is a dawdle compared to my daily schedule."

"But I suppose we must trudge on, as is the way of things. But let me tell you something." He reached for her hand, pressing a thumb over her wrist. "You're the furthest thing from a corpse I've ever seen - trust me, I have experience with the gruesome side of the afterlife, I know what I'm talking about. That little drum of yours is beating out a best-selling tune, even if you can't hear it. You're alive, dearest, far more so than I am. There's light in you yet, I can see it. Maybe you're a little crazy, but all the best of us are. So don't go getting yourself blown up just to prove that you're already dead. Then we'll all be sorry bastards when we real the real guy down below - and trust me, this tricky little ringmaster we're dealing with here, he's not the Devil. Hasn't got the charm."

"Going by those standards, that silver tongue of yours must make you the king of Hell."

"Then be my sweet Persephone and take us both to the springtime."

"Are you offering me a pomegranate, Hades? Trying to steal this poor little virgin girl away?" She leaned her head in and grinned. "I've been sitting on this throne long before you showed up, sweetheart." Eyes on her Pip-Boy, she got to her feet and swept her hair over one shoulder. "Looks like you're slated for some rooftop in Puesta Del Sol. Does that mean anything to you?"

"You can't be serious," he breathed, getting to his feet and leaning over to get a view of the map. "That's the last place anyone wants to stand when this event goes off. That place during Spring, Summer and Fall - little bit in Winter - is a prime resort spot for ghost people. Not the best of neighbourhoods, and they're huge fans of the King of Swing." He paused at her blank expression. "That would be me, by the way. You've never seen the posters? Ah, well. If we're going there, I'm not going alone. And if you have any bright ideas about making me stroll on over there, or leaving me there? No thanks. I've got the worst damn role in the act, don't I? Let's hope the boss man's script doesn't have me dying sometime later on. I'll have to have a word with my manager," he muttered. "This gig doesn't feel right. Don't get me wrong, I can hold an audience, conduct a score from the rooftops, but this job falls somewhat below my abilities."

"Is there a meaning to this speech or are you really just a few decks short of a full house?"

"Partner, I'm not sure the guy we're dealing with here has any more than a handful of jokers."

"Drawn with crayon over his Med-X prescriptions."

"Exactly. He figures the Strong Man's needed somewhere with heavy lifting, even if that walking stomach is two minds about the affair. And the mute looks like she's been sent some place where speaking isn't important. Stage tech maybe? But her friend and I, we're dead weights. The boss man at least had the decency to cut her off, cancel the deal, give her a different bow tie than the rest of us. Me, however, I'm just the man holding the toolbox, the nurse holding the scalpel, the chauffeur driving you to the concert. Any guy with hands is who he needs on that rooftop. Guess he thinks I don't rate, looking like I do."

"And what about me?" She moved for her own marker. "What part do I play in all this?"

Dean Domino dropped his cigarette. "Congratulations, my dear. You got the lead role."

* * *

><p>The bear trap was an inch from her face. Her head slammed back against the wall as it snapped shut. She grabbed the Trapper by the arm, digging her nails into its rubbery flesh. Its eyes bored into her own, blinding her with green light as she struggled against its weight. Its free hand had her by the arm, the shoulder, the throat. She pounded her fists against the soulless creature, kicked its legs and ripped at its neck with her teeth. Sickly blue blood filled her mouth, ran down her throat as the Trapper's fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around her. Her punches grew weaker and her vision blurred as the clashing metal teeth clamped down on her arm. She screamed and thrashed and shut her eyes.<p>

_"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead."_

She slammed her fists against the zombie's chest.

She reached for the closest thing to her - something on the bookshelf blurring in her peripherals.

She reached for Sunny's hand.

_"The only reason I'm here now is because I hope there's something more for me."_

Their fingers entwined. She almost felt something. She was almost alive.

She was running out of air.

_"You've chased your killer all this way because you have nothing without the chase. I had nothing without an escape."_

She could see her face, she could hear her laugh, she could feel the warmth of her skin.

Brianna O'Reilly was whole again. She reached out to death with everything in her, drinking down every detail as the vision devoured her consciousness.

_This isn't real._

She had made no one love her. She had never danced with any woman out in the heat of the desert, never woken up to sleepy mumbles and an Elvis song. She had never loved so much, she had never lost _so much, _she had never shed a tear for a woman who'd been named after the sun, named after something that didn't exist in the Sierra Madre, something that didn't exist in her heart anymore. Something that had no place in the dead of night, where creatures darker than the shadows shambled across a long-dead casino from a long-dead time.

_This is a dream._

Golden hands closed around her heart and the monster's head painted the walls blue.

She fell to her knees in a choking prayer, gasping for air, lungs full of cleansing fire, like a baptism she almost remembered.

Dean Domino offered her a gloved hand.

"Song and dance might have worked better than that little number, dear."

She shot him a glare, sucking in another breath and pulling herself to her feet. Two more Trappers lay in broken heaps around the room, their blood soaking into the carpet.

"Shot one of 'em, didn't I?"

"In the stomach, yes, but it's a trap, they're pretending. Have to hack off the limbs or the head."

"Hard to do when there's three comin' in from all sides," she muttered, pressing a hand against her bleeding arm. With a pained wince, she raised her Pip-Boy.

"Rooftop can't be far," Dean replied, taking a long stretch before sitting down on the busted couch. "We have time to patch that up."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't want you bowing out on me, love. Vending machine's downstairs - should be stimpaks, if you have the holotape."

"Holotape?"

"There are a few of them 'round here. Just wave them in front of a vending machine and all new presents come out. Weapons, medicine, armour; Sinclair was nothing if not prepared. Must have been at least one of them in the medical district, right? Unless you were too busy swinging that spear around like a frenzied Mr. Handy to notice."

"I have it," she confirmed, taking the disc out of her pocket. "No chance of me bowing out yet."

* * *

><p>"So what are those things?" She whispered, crouching low on the rooftop and watching the Harvester shuffle along beneath them, stretching its neck up to the sky and piercing the air with a sharp green glow. "How do they exist? Where did they come from?"<p>

Dean exhaled a breath of smoke. "Friend, there is more between Heaven and Earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy."

"So you don't have a clue, then."

"I'd sooner ask what makes me an undying son of a bitch than spend any thought as to why _they _crawled to life here. Anyway-"

_"You're at the ghoul's Gala area. Now make him stay."_

Something dropped in Brianna's stomach when Elijah's voice crackled through her Pip-Boy. She straightened herself, moving away from the edge of the roof.

"So this is where I'm supposed to put on the show? Played better venues, let me tell you." He glanced around for a moment, eyes locking on a sparking wire that trailed across the ground. "What's that there, wiring? Looks like it's tied to the sound system in the Villa, save for that snipped section over there. So, what, I stand up here and clap those two ends together like cymbals?"

"That's the plan."

"Darling, I strike up that speaker system and there's going to be ghosts all over this place. Any change in the sounds around here-"

"You think we came all this way so you could get cold feet?"

"The ghost people are-"

"Two hundred years, Dean, so you could give up?"

"Such is the way of marriage, isn't it?"

She looked at him, exasperated.

"Listen, you can't offer me anything that would ever make me stay here. When those ghost people come crawling out of the woodwork, it's curtains for Dean."

"You've survived against them this long, haven't you?"

"By setting traps, dear, being smart. And conducting a score from the Puesta Del Sol rooftops isn't smart. Leaving me here? Not smart either."

"Do you think I _want_ to leave you here? I don't. If I could have it my way, you and I would be walking into that casino hand-in-hand with the others far behind us."

"That so?" He paused for a moment. "No. I know how this little scenario plays out, you dames are all the same. Things get a little hot, they get cold feet."

"Those kinds of women died with the world, Domino. Girls don't play nice anymore, they don't have to. Women wear their dresses to war and they'll trample your ashes in a pair of kitten heels. Women are wary now, women are wild. We don't pucker our lips to kiss pretty boys, we lean our heads in close to whisper _I'll end you. _You haven't seen half of what women these days are capable of, so let me show it to you." Her closeness sent him stepping back a few yards. "Stay here, do your part, get us into the Sierra Madre and together, we can have everything we've ever wanted. Weapons, gold, Old World secrets, I don't care what it is, because there's no way in hell that I'm settling for freedom. I haven't spent this endless undeath screaming in the dark for nothing at all. I'm taking something back from this Hell I put myself in, I'm taking something back from a locked-up casino like the one my soul got trapped inside. I've torn out all my tenderness, there's nothing left of me that cares enough to kill you, so stay by my side and let's do this together. A man with cold feet isn't someone I'd share a bed with, Dean, and this bed of ours will sprawl out over mountains of gold."

"So what do you say? Ready to strike up the band?"


	40. Letting Go

**SALIDA DEL SOL**

**error: unknown**

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_"The bell tower. That's where you'll trigger the Gala Event. It's a ways up. I'm sure you'll find a way to climb up there."_

She fired at the speaker overhead, silencing her collar's beeping before pressing herself against the archway, waiting. She strained her ears for the low, strangled grunt of a Harvester, or the distant clanging of a Trapper's metal fist. Or maybe for the sound of Dean Domino's footsteps.

That damn ghoul had taken some persuasion, but in the end she'd managed to make him stay. She wondered if that was because he knew he'd have no other choice. She wondered if it was because he really did want them in that casino together, hand-in-hand, stealing from the Old World itself. She wondered if he knew that she'd meant everything she'd said about wanting him alive, about needing someone by her side, about wanting more than just her freedom. Whatever was waiting for her in the Sierra Madre, whether it was gold or weapons or secrets, she wanted it. She'd come too far to leave with only a detached bomb collar and a handful of poker chips.

She stepped through the archway, pistol in hand. The Trapper was instantly visible, standing atop the staircase ahead which led to into another building. The creature was illuminated by the faint blue light of another speaker by the door. She fired two shots into the wall, missing both times. The Trapper lunged. It leapt off the staircase, bear trap snapping in her direction as she sidestepped, firing a blind shot into the wall as her collar began to beep. She missed again, this time moving for the Trapper and firing into its chest as it crouched low, watching her.

It sprang.

She swerved. Fired a crippling shot at the Trapper's left leg. It dragged the bleeding limb along and lunged for her again, bear trap clamping down as she moved back towards the staircase, not daring to take her eyes off it. She fired at the Trapper's head until her pistol gave an empty _click._ She had no time to find ammo in the pouches of her armour, no time to do anything but race backwards up the steps and slam the butt of the gun into the speaker._  
><em>

_Beep beep beep beep._

She hit it harder, forcing all her weight into pounding the thing with her empty pistol as the Trapper crouched at the bottom of the staircase.

_Beep beep beep beep._

She threw the door open and charged inside, stumbling backwards into the room and fumbling in her pockets for ammo.

_Beep beep beep-beep-beep._

The Trapper was at the door.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep._

She tossed her weapon aside, reaching for the nearest object and hurling it with all her might at the Trapper. It was a small television, she found, as it whizzed across the room and sent the monster flying backwards over the railing. She raced for the door and slammed it shut, moving back into the room and pressing herself against the furthest wall, eyes shut tight, hoping.

There was silence.

She released a heaving breath, retrieving her pistol and shoving it back into place. She wrenched the shade off a nearby floor lamp and grabbed the stand, wielding it like a sword as she ran for the stairs ahead, descending to the ground floor of the building and moving out into an open courtyard below. A quick glance at her Pip-Boy told her to go straight ahead, but straight ahead was a bronze gate with thick waves of Cloud tumbling out past it. Straight ahead had been lost to the haze a long time ago.

She moved right, where a Seeker was waiting for her.

Brianna ran for it, raising the lamp stand high and swinging it hard. She could hear the satisfying crack of ribs and the sickly squelch of brains as she brought the object down on the fallen creature's head, splattering the pavement with blue. The Harvester ahead didn't allow her time to recover. There was a spear flying in her direction before she could react, falling with a clatter right next to her feet. She moved behind the nearest archway to catch her breath, eyes locked on a black scrawl across the wall.

**RUN, RUN, RUN.**

So she ran. She stepped out from behind the archway, careening into the Harvester's left side and slamming it against the wall. It deflected the oncoming swipe of the lamp stand with its spear, forcing her to stumble back and allow it room to slip away. It lunged at her again, ready to swing the spear right across her face before she blocked it with the stand and threw the Harvester off-balance. Her stand collided with the creature's skull, staining it with blue as she swung again in the opposite direction. She left the Harvester lying in a broken heap.

It took a few moments of searching to find that there was no way through to the bell tower but onwards, right through the bronze gate. The surrounding courtyard ended with all doors boarded up and entryways blocked off by mountains of rubble, even furniture from when previous visitors had tried to hide themselves away from the other collars.

So she took a deep breath and she charged through the gate, boots slamming down hard on the concrete as her vision began to blur. Her world was red, red in all directions, everywhere she turned. Thick tendrils snaked down her throat, leaving the taste of copper on her tongue as her chest tightened, as her lungs seized up and refused the toxic air. There'd been a light before, somewhere to her left, just a second ago. No- no, it was her right, it was definitely to her right, it had been right there. But she was lost now, spinning in circles and choking on the smell of sulphur.

She stumbled, her back hitting a wall she couldn't see. Her eyes were burning; she knew that it had to be tears falling down her cheeks but the liquid felt like acid burning through her skin. She was inside a building, stumbling blindly along with only the faintest shadow of shelves to guide her. She moved closer. There was a man behind the counter made from blue light, illuminating the exit to her left. She barrelled through it, pressing one hand against the nearest wall to guide her along until she could finally see again.

She was in another courtyard, leaning back against the wall and gasping for breath.

She took one step forward and the beeping starting again.

Releasing a small noise of despair, she hurried for the staircase ahead, rustling through her pockets and coming up with some spare bullets for her pistol. She loaded it as quickly as her trembling hands would allow. The world span in dizzying circles as she tumbled up the steps, firing a bullet into the radio ahead as soon as she entered the abandoned room. It was some kind of store, she guessed, not staying long enough to find out.

She was outside again, moving mechanically onwards in the direction of her map marker. Every room she passed through was littered with traps. Frag mines were hidden behind photo frames, beneath fallen boxes of fruit, underneath discarded magazines. Bear traps were the easiest to detect, but one slight misstep had almost meant her death when her foot had snagged on the edge of it. She got away with only a scrape, but a tripwire further on sent a heavy concrete beam slamming into her stomach, knocking her to the floor.

It was only when her Pip-Boy gave a small _beep_ that she realised she'd been moving in a daze, focused on moving further and moving further, avoiding traps and shooting speakers and staying alive for just one more moment. It was on the landing of a long flight of stairs that she woke up. Her Pip-Boy map displayed _Campanas Del Sol _and the bell tower loomed far above her, piercing the swirling red clouds. Something hit her like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of her lungs and bringing her to her knees with an anguished cry.

She was stuck here. She was a prisoner. There was a bomb collar strapped around her neck and there was no sun above her and she hadn't seen the stars in such a long time and she was trapped in this endless toxic Hell and it was all her fault. The silence was shredded by the impossible cries of impossible creatures, the only ones left in the world who would ever yearn for her to come home to them, the only ones who would welcome her with open arms. She remembered so much, so quickly, so soon. She remembered dancing in the dead of night and laughing at the sky and living with lions in her lungs that gave her the courage to roar at the abyss, to accept this game of hide-and-seek she'd been playing all her life. She remembered triumph singing in her heart at every day that passed, finding assurance in the glinting sunset that today, at least, she'd escaped her fate.

She would never know that glory again. Not in here, not in this choking perdition where everything she had was lost to the Cloud, where everything she wanted was far above that torrent of toxic hellfire in the sky. She hated herself for this. She'd left the entire world behind, given up everything she'd ever wanted and fallen for the lies of a dead woman who promised her an escape. But this was all she had, and all she could ever hope to have again. So she would claw her way across this courtyard and do her part, open the skies if she could and let the music ring clear across this infernal haze until she found some hope of release, because hers were the fears of Brianna O'Reilly, and that woman had died long ago. She would rise in memorial to her, make her a shrine of gemstones and gold until fortune drowned her sorrow. She would rise in remembrance and she would carry the monster of grief on her back until it choked on the toxins that she would forge her new body from. She would cut out her heart tonight and grow another from ash and memories, she would find a hundred thousand metaphors that would make her suffering beautiful. She would live again.

Brianna got to her feet and was done trying to forget. She was done trying to pretend that she didn't know what a police car was, that she didn't know the words to _All Shook Up, _that she had never known the warmth of the sun or the taste of an ice-cold sarsaparilla on a burning hot day. She was done smothering the memories of a hundred different lovers, done reaching for salvation where there was none, and she would _not _pretend that she had never been a woman who had loved so foolishly and let that golden romance leave her so undone. She would leave behind the person who had driven herself to darkness and lost herself in this place of dead ends, dead hearts, dead money.

She would let it all go tonight.

Her voice was a muffled cry in the wilderness as she sang a familiar song about beginning again in the night. Brianna O'Reilly faced her rebirth and raised her voice, inviting the monsters to join her, inviting them to tear her apart if they dared. She was fire again, a smoking ruin. She was forged from fire and brimstone, and her blood was a flood of rushing silver. She was a creature cut from rock and ruin, and she would never be afraid again.

* * *

><p>She passed through the church like a plague. Her silence was tactile as she readied her gun, footsteps tapping softly against the cracked tiles beneath her. The world was shrouded by a reverent hush as the Cloud lapped at the stained glass windows, a looming giant that watched her with its terrible red eye. There was no arched ceiling to be found, no holy water or shrine. It was only one of the many small buildings inside the bell tower's surrounding structure, and looked as if it had been built on afterthought. Six crude wooden benches served as makeshift pews, and the podium on the steps above had been knocked to the floor. The only exit had been torn right through the wall behind it, so she passed through with her body tense and alert.<p>

Her blood froze in her veins.

The room beyond the gap was almost black with darkness. The crimson wax of burning candles pooled like blood across the dirt-streaked floor, but their feeble glow was almost swallowed by the thick tenebrosity. Some kind of alter had been built in the centre of the place, with a body placed on top. She moved closer to inspect it and found, with an icy lurch of dread, that it was nothing more than a skeleton. It stared up at her with hollow eyes, legs together with both hands resting in the middle of its ribcage. Laid out around the body were jars of what must have been embalming fluid, along with a few tiny scalpels.

The darkness opened its bright green eyes.

Brianna took a slow step back. Half a hundred eyes were opening all around her as the ghost people made themselves known. Their limbs twitched and jerked as they moved for her, illuminated by the viridescent glow of their gas masks. She backed up against the alter and knocked a jar of embalming fluid to the ground. It shattered at her feet. The zombies screeched at the sudden noise and surged towards her. She ran. The church was behind her in a flash as she sent lamps and shelves crashing to the ground to hinder the monsters at her heels. She stumbled out into the courtyard, searching frantically for somewhere to go, somewhere to hide. She found nothing, nowhere. The other doors were blocked off by rubble or boarded up tight, all except for one, which was guarded by a number of hissing Trappers. She backed away. Seekers filled the balconies above her, gas bombs in hand.

She aimed her pistol and fired. The Seeker's bomb exploded in a torrent of flame. She charged past the Harvesters that were gathering around her, firing shuts into skulls as she threw them aside. She raced for the staircase to her left and barrelled onto the balcony as soon as she reached the landing. From there, she headed towards the tower, unobstructed by the barriers that had long since been blasted away. The balcony was a direct pathway to every room on the upper floor - her only problem was the ghost people spilling out from those rooms and hurling spears in her direction. When she was right beneath the bell tower, Brianna looked up at the arched roof that pierced the swirling red sky. She took a few steps back, as many as she dared. And she shoved her pistol into its holster and leapt for the closest window.

She slammed her fist through the stained glass, forming a makeshift foothold to hoist herself up. There were three more windows, three more floors, she just had to slip inside the highest one and find her way up from there. She leaned her forehead against the wall, choking back a sob as her muscles trembled. One quick turn of her head was enough to make her head spin. She was high enough to see the ghost people in their entirety, spilling out onto the courtyard. They screeched at her from far below, too many for her to count, too many for her to fight. They threw knives and spears at her from the balconies, some falling harmlessly down, some missing her limbs by centimetres.

She reached the next window, using the loose bricks to carry herself higher as her intestines twisted into knots.

She reached the next window, slamming her bleeding fist into it and creating another foothold.

_Almost there._

Her right foot slipped before she could make it. She grabbed for the ledge above, one foot dangling perilously as she tried to regain her balance. With a groan of exertion she tried to pull herself up, finding her right foot and searching for somewhere to place it. She found nothing. So she went for her left, grasping with both hands for loose bricks above the window and putting her left foot down on the window ledge, followed by the right.

The next window was right above her.

She reached for her pistol with her right hand, wobbling unsteadily as she sent a bullet through the glass. A thousand glittering shards rained down on top of her. She buried her face in her arm to shield it from the damage before shoving the pistol back into its place and climbing up, reaching for the gap in the wall, making it.

She pulled herself inside, falling in a bleeding, trembling heap of exhaustion and relief.

She was in an old storage room and there was a latched door on the ceiling.

She'd made it.

* * *

><p><em>"Can you hear me? Damn transceivers. Let me link the collars to the speaker in the tower then... there."<em>

Brianna looked out at the Sierra Madre with a gaze like gunfire. The area below was stained with the red of her bleeding fists, the red of her anger, the red of her steaming breath and her electric pulse. Her heart drummed out a pounding beat, the sweetest sound she'd ever heard, a sound she thought was lost to her. She pulled the spectrum of stained glass from her hands and felt the sharp jolt of relief with every shard that came loose. She could feel her lungs expanding, full of fire and rage as she looked down at the courtyard below, knowing that the ghost people would soon come back. When the fireworks tore apart that suffocating red chrisom and the Sierra Madre came alive once more with music, they would come back. And this time, she would be ready for them. This time, she was alive.

From the control panel's speaker came a short series of taps.

"Christine? Christine, is that you?"

_"Brianna, can you hear me?"_

"Veronica? Veronica, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight, I wasn't- I wasn't _me, _I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

_"Hey, it's fine. Let's just focus on setting this thing off, alright?"_

"Are you safe in there? Both of you?"

_"We're fine. What about you?"_

"It's been rough, but I'm okay. Veronica, I think we might actually do it. I think we'll make it out of this."

_"I hope so. And look, I forgive you, okay? I didn't mean anything I said, but I needed to break you, I had to. You were gonna kill her, Brianna. I had to do whatever I could. And I miss Sunny too, Brianna. I'm just glad we can make this right. Maybe we can work things out over a bottle wine and a mountain of gold."_

"Sounds fantastic. Christine? You ready?"

_"She's ready."_

"Alright. We're starting this off soon, just wait for my signal. Good luck."

_"Ready. The both of us. I'll keep Dog locked in his cage, you just open the Sierra Madre."_

"God, I didn't-"

_"What are you waiting for, darling? Strike up the band already."_

She reached for the lever, looking out at the Sierra Madre and knowing exactly what to do.

"Show's about to begin, people! Take your places!"


	41. Death Valley

**THE BELL TOWER**

**error: unknown**

**re-directing...**

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The Sierra Madre did not come to life.

The fireworks did not tear apart the swirling red clouds, exploding into flashes of brilliant colour.

The music did not lift her heart up. It did not make her laugh with joy and triumph and it did not make her sing.

Instead, she looked out of the bell tower with building dread as the fireworks shot up into the air, exploding into bursts of red light before the sparks disappeared behind the thickness of the Cloud. The Sierra Madre casino stood tall and uncaring beyond the ridiculous light show, lit up by swaying white beams. She almost laughed at the sight. For over two hundred years that casino had been empty, save for a madman who thought he had control. The inhabitants had died centuries ago. The sound engineer, the fireworks management, the lighting technicians. Every builder and barmaid, every hopeless gambler, every sold-out star, even the man who had built the place was long, long dead.

And the music still played, as if anyone was left to sing along.

Inhaling a shaky breath, Brianna forced herself to look down at the courtyard below.

It was worse than she'd expected. There were ghost people scaling the walls of the church, climbing onto the balconies, crawling out from the buildings, down the staircase. She'd known from the start that running would be her only option. Now she wasn't sure if even that would be enough. If she was quick, she could force her way past the creatures in the courtyard and get herself up those steps, but how many more would she find in the streets? If she was quiet, she might be able to sneak her way past some of them. She'd sooner take on ten than a hundred.

She wondered if Veronica and Christine were safe. If the mute really had come here to kill Elijah, would she head for the Sierra Madre to finish the job? Would Veronica join her? She hoped not. She hoped that the two would leave this place for good, even if that meant leaving her behind. There was nothing here for Veronica Santangelo; she would find no comfort in blood and gold. But that was where they differed. Brianna couldn't tear herself away from this place, not now. This was her birthplace, her home, her sanctuary. She would leave a piece of herself here as she had all over the desert, and perhaps Dean Domino would carry that fragment of Brianna O'Reilly beyond this place, if she never made it out. Maybe he would be out there waiting for her.

She took one last look down at the courtyard and decided to find out for herself.

* * *

><p>"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?!"<p>

_"Just about... Think y... Get down? Trouble up here... Not many... More coming."_

"You're still on the rooftop?"

_"For now."_

"Think you can let the Madre wait a few more minutes and come down to Campanas del Sol?"

_"... Think I waited... to save...?"_

She could barely hear him over the crackling of static.

"Campanas del Sol!" She repeated. "Dean, can you hear me? I can't do this by myself. There's too many!"

_"Got problems of my own, sweetheart."_

"How many?"

_"Somehow I didn't think to count."_

"Heading here will be the easiest way out, understand? You'll die getting to the Villa. Head here. We can take them together. I'll gather the others."

_"... I hope you know what you're doing."_

* * *

><p>"God? Is that you? God? Can you hear me?"<p>

_"Locked tight behind this cage, don't worry. Just waiting for them to come spilling out... Then I'll..."_

"Listen to me, I need you here. Campanas del Dol, know where it is?"

_"... Can feel him pulling... Likes the church... Always liked the church..."_

"We can't do this alone, understand? This doesn't work if we do this alone."

_"Some trap... Some trap... To be the first in that casino... I'll crush..."_

"Why do you care about the casino? I thought you wanted out?"

There was silence.

"Fine. Stay in that fucking cage and rot."

* * *

><p><em>"On a scale of toddlers at a birthday party to bloodthirsty post-apocalyptic zombies roaming an ancient casino, how bad is it?"<em>

"With toddlers being one and zombies being ten?"

_"Yep."_

"Eleven."

_"Damn. We were just gonna head out, but maybe we sh- I know. Look, there's still time. I know. Still have ammo? Good. We'll head out when- hey, I don't want you dying on me. Just a few more minutes, okay? You still there, Brianna?"_

"Yeah, look, I need your help. You're underground, right? The ghost people will leave you alone if you're careful enough. Up here, not so much."

_"I know. I... I think so. I don't know, Christine. Yes. Okay, those gestures are way too... Don't look at me l-"_

"There are hundreds of them, Veronica. Down on the courtyard beneath the bell tower. Campanas del Sol. I can get past the courtyard, but the streets'll be crawling with them. Maybe you don't want me to survive this, but it's better than watching your girlfriend's head get blown to pieces right in front of you. Just help me out of this place. _Please. _Get within sight of the tower. I'll wait here, give you directions. Got that, Domino?"_  
><em>

_"You bet, baby."_

"Veronica? Christine?"

_"We're on our way."_

* * *

><p>She sped down the steps, forcing her way past toppled furniture and fallen rubble. She didn't have time to waste. Even the radios weren't enough to slow her down; the beeping of her bomb collar only sent her running faster. Graffiti blurred in the corners of her vision.<p>

**GET OUT OF HERE!**

She reached the second floor to find the path blocked by a mound of rubble. The only way out was through a blasted hole in the wall, leading right out onto the wooden balcony. Her head snapped in both directions. The zombies were surging towards her from both directions. They were closing in, spears ready, traps snapping. So she leapt. For an instant, she was suspended in time, floating in an eternal hush. Then her boots slammed on the ground. She was crouched and snarling and ready to fight, ready to live, ready for anything in the world. She slammed the nearest Harvester out of the way and pelted onwards.

**HIDE, RUN, GUN.**

She threw herself out onto the street. Turned a sharp corner. A Trapper was waiting on either side of the path. _Exit stage right._ She disappeared through the nearest building, swerving and aiming her pistol towards the busted doorway. She took a few hesitant steps back, sinking down behind the counter and holding her breath.

Aiming.

Waiting.

Hearing a sharp _hiss._

She searched around her frantically, looking for _something _other than a two-hundred-year-old police pistol to save her, for _something _that wouldn't alert every other Trapper in the district if it went off. She came up with two boxes of ammo and shoved them into her pocket with one hand as the first Trapper crept in through the door. With a desperate cry, she fired a shot at the creature's face, shattering one of its glowing eyes.

It moved closer.

She emptied the gun into the Trapper's skull before leaping over the desk and slamming the tiny pistol down on its head. It didn't react. She tossed the useless weapon aside. Grabbed both of the Trapper's arms and twisted them full circle, wrenching the clanging bear traps away and laughing at the satisfying _squelch _of decayed flesh. The Trapper released an unholy shriek, struggling fiercely against her grip as she forced back against the wall. She drove her knee upwards into the creature's stomach until it collapsed beneath her. She didn't stop. She released one arm and took the other in both hands, using her knee to keep its wriggling torso in place as she yanked hard on the flailing limb. With a satisfying _rip _the arm tore away from the shoulder, blue blood gushing from the socket. As it buckled beneath her, she smacked it across the face with its oozing arm.

* * *

><p>When she made it to Salida del Sol, Brianna knew she had been wrong all along. It wasn't just the bell tower the ghost people had flocked to, it wasn't just Puesta del Sol. They were everywhere. Down every street, around every corner, inside every building. She was in the middle of a courtyard. The creatures were moving in from both sides, cutting her off from every escape route - twenty on either side of her, at least, and she'd emptied her pistol a long time ago.<p>

She sidestepped the oncoming swipe of a bear trap, lodging the Trapper on the business end of her spear and whacking the next one over the head with the corpse before it slid off. The spear was short enough for decent movement and flexibility, but she only dared moved forward, pushing through the wave of shambling zombies coming at her from the right. A few remained behind her, stabbing at her with their metal teeth and sending her falling lower and lower with every bite. But she kept the Trappers close just to push the Harvesters further back. Even as she cut down their numbers, there wasn't room on the street for leaping back and tossing one of their heavy spears, so they too relied on the shorter weapons to stab with. She almost prayed for a Seeker to set off a gas bomb and burn the rest of them to ash, because even as she pushed through the masses, she knew there was no hope of survival.

She lodged her spear in the nearest Trapper's gut before spinning around to face the one to her left. With both hands, she wrenched the bear trap away and forced it to clamp down on its wielders face. She retrieved her spear from the other Trapper's stomach, slamming the end down over its skull and hearing a loud _crack _over the chorus of hissing and wailing.

She'd lost Christine and Veronica. They must have been swarmed by ghost people, she thought, or they'd continued on without her. Dean hadn't showed his face at all. She knew the Trappers would overwhelm her if she reached down to find one of their collar frequencies, so she continued to fight on, exhausted, losing, wondering if she had unknowingly sent her partners to their deaths. Wondering if they'd abandoned her for the Sierra Madre.

Her weapon was stolen from her grasp. The air was knocked out of her as the Trapper snapped the spear in half. It stared at her, eyes boring right into her brain.

And a blast of blue light send it falling to the ground.

Another fell soon after.

And another.

And another.

She laughed as the ghost people collapsed around her, some disintegrating entirely by the beams of light. There was room to move again. She span around, immediately beginning to cut down the horde that had been pushing in from behind her. With a quick glance upwards, she found Christine on the rooftop, one eye pressed into the scope of her holorifle as she took another Trapper down. She spotted Brianna and gave her a quick thumbs up. She could barely believe the sight. After a few seconds, at least ten more were on the ground, skulls crushed, blood leaking out in blue pools on the concrete. She'd reached the end of the swarm and she was facing a gate. An open gate, swinging loosely on its hinges. She saw the terminal next to it, the switches that lay just ahead.

_God._

She raised her Pip-Boy, searching frantically through the audio files until the found the mutant's frequency.

_"Didn't help the Old Man... Wonder if I could rip it off without killing her... She'll get here soon..."_

She shut the thing off, turning around to see Veronica clamping her bear trap fist down on the Harvester next to her. After a few moments, the rest of them were brought down in just the same way. They were alone, it seemed. For now.

"Don't look at me like that," Veronica scolded, dusting off her jumpsuit and moving towards Brianna. "What, did you think I'd abandon you?"

"Hard to know who to trust around here when everyone wants into the same place."

"I never said anything about going into the Madre."

"You didn't have to. I don't know what it is you want from that place, but I know you aren't gonna let her go."

"Nothing good came out it the first time. And I thought you were the one who just wanted your freedom?"

She gave a rueful half-smile. "Looks like we're both liars."

"The very best kind," she agreed, huffing out a sigh. "What is it you want, Brianna? If we're all heading into the same trap, shouldn't we trust each other?"

"I don't care what's in that place. I don't care what kind of treasure it is, but I want it. After all that happened, after... I know I'm not the only person to lose someone. But Grace, Sunny, Cass, Joshua, Jed, my parents. I've left so many people behind, watched so many people die. Even myself. All the wasteland does is take, and now I think it's my turn. I want to take something back from this place, make all this Hell worthwhile."

"Sounds as good as any other reason. I guess for me, it's just Elijah. Now that I know he's in there, I can't leave this place behind. I just can't. I don't know if I want answers, or revenge, or-" She paused. "This is starting to sound a lot like your story, isn't it? I want to know why he left, what he did, what's in that casino that he wants so badly. I need answers, Brianna. Christine needs answers. And damned if I wouldn't follow that woman into oblivion."

"Well, isn't that just a touching story," Dean Domino said, clapping his hands together as he approached from around the corner. "Broadway material, five stars. A tale of romance, deception, mystery. But quite predictable, I suppose. You made it quite obvious from the start that the main characters all end up being dragged away by ghost people because their conversation was loud enough to draw out the ones from underneath the streets."

Brianna glanced in Veronica's direction as Christine slid down off the roof, landing lightly on her feet.

"Can we trust each other to do this?" Brianna asked. "To get we want from this place without killing each other?"

"What's a marriage without trust?" Dean asked, offering his hand.

* * *

><p><em>"Has your life taken a turn?"<em>

They stood around the fountain, facing out towards the courtyard with jaws set and eyes like fire.

_"Do troubles beset you?"_

The cocking of a pistol. The clicking of a holorifle reloading. The clashing of a metal fist. The sound of hopeless lies from unseen speakers, promises that had long ago been broken.

_"Has fortune left you behind?"_

The ghost people emerged from every building, every street, sizing up their united opponents.

_"If so, the Sierra Madre casino is inviting you to begin ag-"_

"Fuck the Sierra Madre!"

The monsters sprang.

Veronica was ready first, bear trap snapping as she charged towards the nearest Harvester. Brianna saw the trap clamp down on the creature's right arm before she too moved to fight. She knocked back a lunging Trapper with a blow from her spear before thrusting downwards and skewering its skull. Christine flanked left, relentlessly firing at the gas mask zombies while Veronica snaked through the cluster. She was ruthless, clamping her bear trap fist down on every limb she came across, using the tight grip to tear the Trapper's arms from their sockets. Brianna pushed through the horde, slamming the handle of her spear down on as many skulls as she could reach. She'd taken ten of them down by the time Dean showed up, grumbling under his breath as his pistol spat bullets into the crowd.

"Never signed up for this," she heard him mutter, before his voice was swallowed by a loud _clank._

The air was knocked from her lungs and everything slowed.

She could see Veronica slamming her fist into a ghost person's face before closing her bear trap down on its shoulder. She didn't hear the scream it released, only the rushing of blood through her head. Christine defended Veronica from behind, the two standing back-to-back as she reloaded her rifle. Her eyes were dark, her lips twisted into a snarl. She couldn't see Dean, only the falling Trappers who died with bullets through their skulls. And she couldn't see the bear trap. She couldn't, wouldn't look down, but she knew. She could feel its metal teeth biting into her leg, feel the grip on her wrist as she turned to see two piercing green eyes breaking through the darkness. She screamed in terror, cringing back and turning to find another Trapper on her opposite side. It locked her wrist in a tight grip. She tried to struggle, tried to shove the creatures away, but every movement send agonising shudders of pain through her trapped leg.

The Trappers pulled.

They yanked at her arms with brutal strength as she screeched for help. She could hear her bones cracking as they twisted her wrists around, pulling and pulling like they wanted to rip her body in half. Her scream was shrill with fear and panic and agony; her entire body pleaded for the pain to end, but the Trappers pulled and pulled and she knew they would tear her apart, drag her off somewhere where nobody would find her, kill her, they would _kill _her before she could ever reach the Sierra Madre. The bone in her leg gave a sharp _snap. _She screwed her eyes shut as her body gave out. She couldn't fight anymore. She wasn't giving up, she assured herself. Just resting. Just giving in. She saw a flash of white and felt nothing at all.

And then one arm was free.

Her eyes snapped open. She twisted towards the Trapper to her left, its grip still impossibly tight on her arm as she fumbled for her spear, finding it on the ground, too far out of reach. So she tugged, she tugged as hard as she could, trying to wrench her arm away. Veronica didn't waste a second as she ran into view, twisting the zombie's arm back until it gave an audible snap. It fell to the ground.

"Shit," Brianna breathed, relying on the last of her remaining strength to keep her from collapsing. "Shit, shit, shit."

Christine hurried towards them, her expression panicked as her eyes found the bear trap closed around Brianna's leg. It was then she noticed that the courtyard was clear, the ground littered with twitching corpses. Dean was smoking a cigarette and sliding the bodies aside with his foot as he too made his way over to her. "So that's what they to do their victims," he said, sounding almost amused.

"Thanks for helping out," she spat, every word trembling as she denied the burning pain with everything she had.

"I was a tad preoccupied, in case you didn't notice, dear."

In the end, it was Christine who dislodged the bear trap from her ankle. Her leg twitched and jerked as blood poured from the wound. Veronica moved for the vending machine with the promise of a stimpak, but Brianna could only giggle in response, somehow giddy with pain and exhaustion. By the time she returned, Brianna was howling with laughter. She had no idea why. Even as the stimpak was injected into her leg, even as that warm, fuzzy feeling trickled through her veins, she laughed. She laughed because they were just about to fight their way into the Sierra Madre casino, and her goddamn foot had been caught in a bear trap. She laughed because this was so _stupid, _the gas mask zombies and the Gala Event and she'd almost had her own body pulled apart! That was crazy!

_Crazy, crazy, crazy._

Her mind only began to clear after Dean offered her a cigarette. She took a drag from it, remembering the first time she'd ever smoked. She'd only been sixteen, and God only knew where she'd found the pot. She'd smoked it on a gas station roof late at night, with people whose names she couldn't remember a the minute. But she laughed at the memory anyway, then started to sob right after when Veronica pulled off her boot and began to cut away the fabric around her leg. It was the alcohol that stung the most. She barely heard Veronica's apologies as the woman lashed vodka across the wound, sending sharp volts of pain up and down her body. The bandage hadn't helped with the pain. Or with the sobbing, which had lasted for a good few minutes after.

"Pick yourself up, girl," Dean urged, offering her a hand. "Can't leave the Madre waiting much longer."

"Where-? Where's Veronica?" She asked, taking his hand and pulling herself up. Putting her full weight on her injured leg brought the pain back with full force. She looked around the empty courtyard and knew exactly where they were.

"They wallflowered it to the Sierra Madre right after their job was done. Looks like they'll be the ones marching in there, holding hands, unless you powder your bloody nose and get a move on. Only reason I stuck around here was because I don't fancy you trying to kill me later on."

"That's how most of my relationships start," she said.

And they left the courtyard behind them.

* * *

><p>"This is it," she breathed, as the heavy golden doors swung shut behind them. "Ready to begin again?"<p>

"Darling, I've been ready for two hundred y- oh, hell."

She looked up. She saw past the darkened room, past the slot machines and the blackjack tables and the polished floors. She saw past the posters and the signs and the staircase, past the swirling marble arches and the chandeliers.

"No," she whispered. "No.

As she sank to her knees, she heard the noise.

The hiss.

And when a sickly yellow gas filled the room, filled her lungs, she knew nothing at all.

* * *

><p><em>"So here you are at last. Welcome. Finally, you have found your opportunity to begin again. You've reached the place where wealth, excitement, and intrigue wait around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort, make new friends, or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert under clear, starlit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our villa rooftops. Countless diversions await. Gamble in our casino, take in the theatre, or stay in one of our exclusive suites that will shelter you, and cater to your every whim. Leave behind life's worries and troubles, and let go. Begin again. Leave the world behind you at the Sierra Madre Casino.<em>

_We hope you enjoy your stay."_


	42. The Sierra Madre

**THE SIERRA MADRE CASINO**

**AUGUST 10**

**10:55**

_"You, inside. Can you hear me? Power's fluctuating. Emergency power... Oh! You did get in."_

Her eyelids fluttered.

_"Good. Thought that might be the end of you. Unfortunately, your friends found their way in here too."_

"Veronica?" She croaked. "Domino? What-?"

_"Knocked unconscious, just like you."_

Her throat was raw, like a raider on Psycho had been hacking at it with a cheese grater. Her nerves were alight and there was acid on her tongue; gasoline stained her cheeks and flames licked her pounding heart. She was ablaze, she was awakening, and she was lying amongst the dead. As she pulled herself into a sitting position, her hand brushed against something cold and hard. She flinched back. Her stomach lurched. The skeletons grinned at her terror, lying in broken heaps about the entrance with their arms outstretched, reaching out to her in a long-silenced plea for help. She scrambled to her feet and moved into the centre of the lobby, but those by the door were not the only skeletons in the Sierra Madre. There were more collapsed around the marble fountains, strewn across the rugs, fallen on the staircase. The people in the posters grinned along with them, staring down from the walls and tracking her every step.

The skeletons grinned at her, all four lying in broken heaps. Their arms were outstretched, reaching desperately towards her, pleading for help.

_"You were hit by casino security. Detects anything foreign, radioactive. It subdues the visitor, moves them if needed. __Looks like it moved your friends around after they got inside. Might be useful. Or not. Wonder if they came to help you or kill you."_

"Where are they?" She croaked, searching frantically through her Pip-Boy map. The only marker belonged to her.

_"Welcome to the Sierra Madre in all its glory! This is what the Old World stood for, even with bombs about to rain down on them. Now look at it. Beautiful now its guests are all dead. Better this way. Quiet. How the Mojave should be. But with the casino sleeping, it's got places closed off. Won't let you go yet. We'll get there, trust me. Just need to wake it up."_

"Not until you tell me why I'm here, Elijah. Not until you tell me what you want."

_"What do I want? __Weapons. Security. A citadel of my own. The Sierra Madre is all of these things. It's a fortress, it's a weapon. It's a chance to begin again. Once I gain access to its archives, I can carve the Mojave into any shape I choose."_

"All that from a casino? There's no way."

_"The Cloud is unique in its travels. Its proximity to the Sierra Madre isn't a coincidence. Right now, it protects this casino. It preserves it. It can be used to preserve other Old World relics. Cleanse them. And as much as I've researched hologram technology, the Big Empty facility was clear. Only the Sierra Madre got the holograms working properly. It was a treasure trove, that place, a scientific graveyard of Old World misery. Like the Madre, there's treasures there, sleeping. Some, awake."_

"You think those holograms work properly? They kill people on sight."

_"That's what I want. Plant one of those emitters in the middle of any battle, there's no defence. It's like holding light in your hands, can't fight it. Only watch it burn. Just one is a portable army. Arm it, and anyone who stands against you dies."_

"What does a sick old bastard like you want with an army? Who is it you're fighting?"

_"Fighting? No, I don't want to fight. I want to wipe the slate clean."_

She was silent for a moment. "Make the Mojave like it was meant to be."

_"Exactly. I'll scour Hoover Dam with the Cloud, rain its walls with spears from the sun. With an army of Old World ghosts behind me, I'll kill them until it's only me, me alone, in a quiet world."_

Her legs swayed beneath her. She gripped the railing of the staircase to steady herself as the Sierra Madre began to spin. "And you want me to help you do that? To help you destroy-"

The next word died in her throat. She thought of Mr. House, hiding behind his monitors and screens and moving his pawns wherever he needed them. She thought about the Legion, about all she'd seen in Nipton. The killing, the raping, the enslaving. And the NCR fighting their hopeless battle, losing their hopeless war. Even the Brotherhood, marching in their tin suits right to their deaths while Veronica pleaded behind them. She thought of Freeside, of addicts and gamblers and dead men on the streets, even with the Followers trying so desperately to save the world. She thought of Sunny Smiles, and how she'd stepped out into the Mojave once again, and how it chewed her up and spat her out.

And for a moment, just for a moment, she thought Elijah was right. The Mojave was her home. The Mojave was a fly trap. She'd come for the pretty lights and stayed because she couldn't get away. She'd spent those hellish nights in her neon prison dreaming of rainbows over Zion. She should have gone back there. She should never have left it. But the Mojave had ensnared her. It had showed her war and she had fallen in love with it, danced with the destruction, told herself that it was beautiful, that it was just the way things were. If she returned there, if she left this place, things would only get worse. She could vouch for the NCR, let them fight for the world that had died long ago. She could support the Legion and watch Caesar's soldiers burn the Mojave to the ground. And Mr. House wouldn't save the world. He would save New Vegas. He could take down any army that stood in his way, but what would that mean if all there was left to fight over was a handful of casinos?

_"Try not to look so conflicted. The Madre won't let you go, whatever you do. Not until this is done. For now, cooperation is your only option. Unless you want to kill yourself now. With the power down, with your team mates presumably on different floors... Hard to tell without power. Might be that you can blow your own head off in here without any consequence to them. If not, I'll still have her. Veronica Santangelo. She'll cooperate if I take that woman away from her. So go ahead. Make your decision."_

Brianna O'Reilly straightened herself. She moved for the casino's entrance. She took a long, deep breath. And she made her decision.

"What do I have to do?"

* * *

><p><strong>SIERRA MADRE SECURITY NETWORK<strong>

**- Check Security Hologram Status**

**- Set Behaviour: Casino Floor West Patrol**

**- Set Behaviour: Bar Stairs Patrol**

**- Security Memo**

**Uploading new behaviour pattern...**

She peered out from behind the alcove to see the hologram turning brusquely on its heels and disappearing behind the staircase, just beyond two archways that separated the entrance from the casino itself. She waited, inwardly counting to five before moving behind the first arch, not daring to take another breath. She made for the stairs, seeing that the holographic guard was marching steadily towards Casino Floor West.

_"Time to wake this place up. Remind it that it has guests."_

The upstairs section of the casino was a bar. A glance at her Pip-Boy map told her that Elijah had placed a marker in the direction of the power grid or terminal, whatever would get the power up and running again. She navigated past the tables and chairs, the gadget at her wrist serving as her only source of light. She scraped some coins from the bar table and zipped them up in one of her pockets before a beeping startled her.

She took a step back, moving in a wide arc around the bar table until she was behind it, just far enough away to silence the beeping. The speaker's blue glow caught her eye immediately, positioned on the wall directly opposite her, right on top of a first-aid kit next to the fridge. She readied her pistol, praying silently that the hologram below wouldn't respond to the sound of a gunshot.

She pulled the trigger and waited.

_Five. Four. Three. Two. One._

Silence. With a giddy breath of laughter, she pried open the medical kit. It was full to the brim with surgical tape, antiseptic wipes, safety pins and a number of other useless items that she quickly threw aside. After a few moments of rummaging, she came up with three stimpaks and a small bottle of water. She drained the bottle within seconds and stored the stims in one of her pockets before heading through the door behind the bar table. Directly ahead of her was a staircase, and to her right a long hallway, patrolled by another hologram. She hurried up the steps and paused in front of the metal door to her left, waiting for the whirring of cogs. The door remained shut. She continued on towards the office room ahead and-

_Beep... Beep... Beep..._

She saw the radio on the desk and sent it crashing to the floor. The only item of interest in here was a terminal. It didn't unlock the door like she'd expected, but a few clicks allowed her to set a new behaviour pattern for the hologram nearest to her. Just as she turned to leave the room, she saw it walk by the door and head downstairs. It was all hallways from then on. Hallways full of dusty furniture, hallways full of skeletons. She walked through each one until she found the room marked on her Pip-Boy, another office with a terminal on the table.

**SIERRA MADRE SECURITY STATUS**

**- Check Security Hologram Status**

**- Set Behaviour: Cashier's Counter Patrol**

**- Security Log 1**

**- Security Log 2**

**- Unlock Electrical Closet Door**

The electrical closet was somewhere downstairs on the casino floor. She cursed herself inwardly as she headed for the bar again, acutely aware of how robotically she moved for every marker. She cursed herself even more for believing that Elijah could be right. She didn't know his reasons for wanting this clean slate. She couldn't imagine what would drive a man to such extremes, to make someone long so desperately for a quiet world, a world without people, a world without life. She couldn't fathom it.

She could.

She pictured herself walking across Hoover Dam, looking out towards the lake she'd promised to return to with her long dead love. She could imagine the silence. Not empty, not ringing, not lonely like the Sierra Madre's deathly stillness. Peaceful. Almost natural. The ridiculousness of mankid was the cause of all the chaos she'd ever known. Without it, the world would know rest. She would walk down those empty roads with no more songs to sing, no more promises to carry her through the night. That timebomb in her heart would tick and tick and tick, and no one in the world would know the grief of her inevitable detonation. She thought about Goodsprings, about the place that saved her. She remembered the miserable barmaid who lived in terror of every unfamiliar face. She thought of the uptight store owner who had nothing to love but his weapons. She thought of the town's protector who was dead and gone and didn't live there anymore, and of a cowboy robot who had watched her from a distance all that time, even as she said her goodbyes and left that tiny old town for the lights of New Vegas.

She pictured that town preserved by its bloodshed, united by its neighbours by a trail of toxic cloud.

When she reached the bar again, those thoughts were shaken from her. There were two holograms patrolling the casino floor below, another standing by what looked to be some sort of gate. Her Pip-Boy told her that the electrical closet could be found right beyond there. Even if she managed to slip by the other two, that third guard was stuck firmly in his position in front of the gate. It wouldn't move unless it saw her, and that would put her in an even more impossible situation.

She climbed over the railing. Certain areas of the casino were separated by tall archways, criss-crossing along the casino floor like walkways, level to the railing of the bar section. After a moment of hesitation, she stood up on makeshift path, every step slow and deliberate as she crossed to the other side of the room. The hologram was right below her, its gaze fixed directly ahead. If she could just jump down, throw herself through that gate and the door that lay beyond it, maybe she could make it.

She leapt. The guard flashed from blue to amber as she charged for the gate. She was long gone before it could make another move, charging through the door and slamming it shut behind her as the casino came to life with the electronic sounds of three deadly holograms ready to kill its intruder. The room was tiny, painfully claustrophobic as she reached for the electrical box. She grabbed the switch with trembling hands and pulled.

A flash of light blinded her.

_"You woke it up. Good. Emitter frequencies lighting up everywhere."_

She sank down against the door and sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to slow the pounding of her furiously beating heart.

_"Damn recordings. Dead echoes in the frequencies. Casino security is shutting down. Opening up its gambling and vendor programs in the back casino. Maybe something can help you now that security's down. After you're done looking around, head to the lobby and we'll deal with your... friends._

* * *

><p>There were ghosts in the Sierra Madre.<p>

She could feel the eyes on her, feel the holograms following her every movement while her footsteps echoed throughout the casino. Glamorous women in holographic dresses stood behind poker tables with blank expressions, flickering silently as they waited for gamblers to arrive. Men in tuxedos stood stiffly behind the bar table and exchange counter, their eyes boring through her skin as she walked.

The lobby was empty.

_"Looks like there's still no sign of your friends. Perhaps the casino recognised specific guests. Maybe they had a look or voice close enough to be assigned to a certain room. I had hoped, with the power restored, that the system would fully awaken, especially the sound archives. But no. Your friends' collars on each floor are interfering with the systems. It's the white noise filters embedded in their construction. They're blocking the casino speakers, the music. You'll need to recalibrate or destroy each collar. Get close, reset the signal, or blow their heads off and be done with it. __My preference? End them now. Since you don't look overly suicidal, the rest of them are of no use."_

"And I won't get my head blown off if I try?"

_"Not now, not if you make it quick. You see, the collars don't work inside the Sierra Madre. Well, between floors. I'd set them off if I could, be done with it. So find them, kill them, and get off the floor as fast as you can. Whatever they've lined this place with interferes with the collar frequency, so you should have time to run. Not sure how long, might be inconsistent. It doesn't matter."_

"You'd let me kill Veronica? I thought you were her mentor. I thought you were her friend."

_"I'll admit, I was surprised to see that she survived HELIOS. But she's resourceful, smart. I would have synced her collar up as normal, given her the same protection as the rest of you, but it was her reaction that I was uncertain of. She's disillusioned, yes, but hopeful. Idealistic. Strong enough to see this through. I saw Dog dragging her here unconscious and gave him the command immediately. I wanted her dead. I could convince her to ally with me, perhaps. Assist me in reshaping the Mojave. Maybe it's already something she wants. But if she was opposed, if that friend of hers found her voice again and started talking-"_

"You're afraid of her," Brianna realised, with a hint of amusement in her tone. "The terrifying, omnipresent ruler of the Sierra Madre who straps bomb collars on helpless people and sends them on fetching missions through a monster-infested casino covered in a toxic cloud, is afraid of Veronica Santangelo."

_"An interesting notion, but don't be ridiculous. I would put anyone else in the same position if I suspected that they would cause trouble, try to resist. But she's the only one I've ever recognised, the only one I've ever had to take such measures with. But the important thing here, what we really need, is in the basement. We need to go to the top first and ride our fortunes down. So if you need to put a bullet in that woman's head, so be it."_

"Fine, fine," she said, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "Or maybe I'll put one in yours."


	43. Putting the Beast Down

**THE SIERRA MADRE CASINO**

**AUGUST 10**

**12:01**

_"Shouldn't be too hard to put a bullet through the reject's head. He's in the kitchen somewhere, no doubt trying to doing your job for you."_

Brianna could hear the mutant's voice from beyond the metal door. If she strained her ears she could make out a broken sentence or two, never enough to piece together exactly what was going on in the kitchen. The door to the Casa Madrid had been hermetically sealed, but she'd found an emergency maintenance card in the lobby and passed through the desolate casino floor to find the alternative access upstairs. She swiped the card and stepped back as the door opened with a mechanical groan.

"... don't understand... Have to take control or... I just want..."

The mutant's voice was faint, even as she advanced past the door. It was hard to distinguish the separate personalities, but they seemed to having a conversation.

"Master... Master, set me free... Dog needs..."

She drew her pistol.

"... burn it out... burn the voice, burn the cage... burn it all..."

"What's he doing in there?" She whispered. "Elijah, can you see him?"

_"No! That idiot's opened the gas valves! A single spark - or he sets off his collar, the casino's going to burn! Us along with him!"_

"What I do?" She hissed. "What do I do?!"

_"Stay quiet! There's no telling what he'll do if he sees you. I can't see anything, must've smashed the cameras."_

"... listening to me. Tired of being your minder, tired..."

_"You can try to shut off the gas valves, but I don't know how you'll get them all without him spotting you."_

"... only way... won't listen..."

"... away... burn it... burn the voice away!"

She slipped through the door to her left.

The monster's shadow loomed in the doorway beyond.

She backed out of the room, pressing herself against the wall and counting silently to five. The mutant continued to mutter to himself, seemingly oblivious to her presence. He hadn't spotted her. She leaned her head back against the wall and whispered her thanks to no one at all before continuing down the hallway. Her vision was obscured by a hazy wave of leaking gas.

"... can hear you now. Not much longer, not..."

She stepped into the kitchen as quickly as she dared. The mutant was lumbering out from the previous room. If she could just-

"Wait!"

She threw herself into the centre of the room, dropping her gun and raising her hands.

"You?" Dog moved closer, sniffing her curiously. "Master. No, not Master. Dog remembers you. Left Dog in cage, mean to Dog. Now, Dog- hrrrn!"

Dog doubled over. God straightened himself.

"He'll kill us both unless you do something!" He gasped. His face was contorted with pain, teeth clenched and sweat dripping from his brow. "Never felt him so strong before. He won't listen to my voice, he's- he's-"

"Hungry. Come here or Dog will chase you, break you until you not run anymore!"

"Dog, stay!" She demanded, her trembling voice loud enough to visibly shock the beast. "You don't want to anger Master, do you?"

"Hnng? Master? Don't want Master to be mad. What does Master want Dog to- Gah!"

"... make... make him listen to you... can't hold him back much longer... tell him to- to pull on his chain as h-"

"Hard as Dog can. What Master wants, Dog can do."

"Tell... tell him to listen to me... then we can get out of this, finally, and-"

"Dog is listening to voice now, your voice only."

"Okay. Okay." She gulped down a breath. The gas was making her dizzy and she couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate, couldn't hold back the sobs that shook her body as she swallowed again, squirming at the taste of human flesh in her mouth.

_No no no don't let her in your head not now not now if you fuck this up you're dead Brianna you're dead you're dead you're-_

"You're alive," Sunny gasped. "You're alive, you're-"

_Stop stop stop stop._

"Sunshine doesn't-"

_No no no no no no stop stop stop st-_

"We can come back here, right? Some time?"

"Some time," she promised, looking up at the snarling beast in front of her. "Dog, are you listening? I need you to do exactly what I say."

"Yes, Master. Anything you say, Dog will do."

"I need you to picture a lake. Just imagine it in your head."

Dog nodded, closing his eyes.

"Now, imagine the voice like that. Imagine the voice as water. Look at it. What do you see?"

"Dog can see the voice." He frowned. "Looks just like Dog."

"Good. Now step in."

"If Dog... If Dog goes into water... No. Master will get mad. Master will hurt Dog, voice will-"

"It's just water, Dog, it can't hurt you. It's just a lake. Keep looking, don't look away."

_What am I doing?_

"Just help Dog end the voice," the mutant whimpered. "Make it go away. Voice keeps shouting, doesn't like Dog, voice-"

"Keep looking," she insisted. "The lake's silent, Dog, and Master isn't there. Now step in. I won't be angry, I promise."

"Okay, Mast- huh?"

The beast fell silent. Dog's eyes were still shut tight, muscles taut, but after a few moments he seemed to relax. His eyes opened.

"Dog?" Brianna asked, taking a wary step back. "Dog?"

"Who-? Who are you? What is this place?"

She gave a breathy laugh. "It's a cage. But at least you're not in two of them now."

"That wasn't the answer I was expecting," the mutant said. "You did something, didn't you? I feel... relieved. Thank you. For whatever you did. I- I think I need to stay here, gain my strength back. I'm exhausted. Will it be safe to leave?"

"I think so. Just stay here for now. I've got some things to sort out. I'll come back if I can, explain things. You think you could turn off those gas valves?"

"Gas-? Oh. Did I do that?"

"Part of you did. Long story."

"Sounds like it. I'll turn the gas off and wait for a while. And if you don't come back?"

"Then you can go," she told him. "You're free."

* * *

><p><em>"You've gotten one of the floors re-established, good. Accessing the music archives now. Two more to go."<em>

The casino tasted like copper. It was on her tongue from the moment she entered the lobby, that metallic tang paired with the smell of burning matches.

"Something's wrong."

_"What's this? Seems like the casino has uninvited guests."_

The breath was knocked from her lungs and she saw it. A shadow. A familiar distortion that was somehow blacker than the darkness that fell over the Sierra Madre.

_"The Villa's inhabitants have been pounding at the doors ever since you got here, pining for you. __Looks like they've found a way inside."_

The Harvester snapped its head around.

A scream ripped past her throat. She lunged for the creature, catching the spear it tossed her way and driving it through the monster's skull. It kicked and screamed beneath her as she forced it to the ground, raking the spear through its head until the struggling stopped. There was a knife tied onto the Harvester's belt, the pattern rippling strangely in the flickering light of a nearby lamp. She took it and shoved it into her belt before stumbling to her feet.

The next was coming down the stairs, gas bomb raised high. She tossed the spear into her left hand and grabbed her pistol with her right, sending a quick shot whizzing through the raised cannister. It exploded with a deafening _bang._ A wreath of flames tore its way up the screaming creature's arm. It threw itself against the railing, flailing wildly as the fire ate through fabric and flesh.

She had no time to watch the Seeker topple in a defeated heap over the railing. Two Trappers raced down the steps, bear traps snapping on both fists. The clanging sound reverberated through the casino, as did the three gunshots she sent in the direction of the nearest Trapper. The creature shuddered and collapsed, but she knew better than to assume it was dead. Brianna's chest was tight, her breaths ragged and uneven as she faced the second.

It lunged for her, the teeth of the bear trap clamping down into an angry snarl as she drew the knife from her belt. It rippled like purple fabric when it caught the light, before it was buried hilt-deep in the Trapper's throat. The bear traps clanked angrily on both its fists, desperate for purchase on her arms as she gave the knife a slow twist. The creature slumped in defeat, seemingly unconscious before she tore the knife out and sliced off its arm with one swift, clean movement.

The casino was silent. She moved for the stairs, her knife slicing through the first squirming Trapper's leg as if it were a stick of butter.

_"Don't know how many got through, but that's all of them for this room. Wonder how they got inside."_

Brianna knew. The entry door had been busted in - not entirely destroyed, but dented enough to allow a Harvester-sized gap in the centre of it. Chunks had been bitten out of the hole by metal teeth, and blue smudges marked the surrounding area. Her stomach gave an ice-cold lurch. Even now, she wasn't safe. Not from the Cloud, from the Ghost People, from the people who might once have been her friends. Not even from herself, it seemed, as she raised her Pip-Boy and searched for Dean Domino's marker.


	44. Curtain Call At the Tampico

**THE TAMPICO THEATRE**

**AUGUST 10**

**13:11**

The Tampico Theatre was breathtaking. She took a moment to put a bullet through the speaker on the wall before stepping through the door, taking it all in. The lighting was dim and faintly purple; the ceiling was dark and sparkling with a thousand tiny lights. They twinkled overhead like stars in a clear night sky, illuminating the plush chairs and small round tables below the stage, which was the next thing to catch her eye. It was huge, the base gilded with intricate golden patterns. She spotted a glimpse of backstage beyond the curtains, a metal staircase and a door.

She walked with her pistol at the ready, uncertain how Dean Domino would react to her still being alive. His motives had always been cleverly hidden by sly charm and an overwhelming sense of superiority. But there was something about him, something straight from the Old World that made Brianna want to spare him. Seemed like a waste to put a bullet through the head of a man who'd spent over two hundred years waiting for his moment to enter the Sierra Madre. And there was enough death in this place already, she thought, eyeing the skeletons around her as she reached the centre of the room.

The stage lit up. Brianna jumped back as two white lights shuddered to life, swaying across the red backdrop. The name _Dean Domino _lit up in a dazzling display of colours as the ghoul himself stepped out, strolling across the stage to meet her. She heard a song playing softly in the backdrop, just above his resonating footsteps. She remembered the speakers, wondering where they were hidden. But they weren't, she found, after a quick scan of the room. They were everywhere, one on every wall, all lit up red instead of blue. The sight made her uneasy.

_"When an irresistible force such as you,_

_Meets an old immovable object like me,_

_You can bet just as sure as you live."_

"Ah, so you showed at last." Dean Domino rubbed his gloved hands together. "Think you're going to upstage me, here at the Sierra Madre? I don't think so. Now that I'm inside- well, you know how it goes. I don't need you anymore. Nice of you to come back for me though. Oh, wait," he sneered. "You didn't. As I remember it, _I_ was the one fighting to save _you _when you got that pretty little foot caught in a bear trap. And after all that, after I risked my life to save yours, what do you do? Knock me out, let the casino drag me away somewhere convenient for you to hatch a little plan with the Boss Man."

"We don't have time for the song and dance, Dean."

_"Something's gotta give,_

_Something's gotta give,_

_Something's gotta give."_

"Look, sweetheart, this is my first time on stage in over two hundred years. Let me enjoy it, would you?" He began to pace back and forth, muttering under his breath. "Never thought it would be like this, so quiet. Empty. Even with the guests all dead, I expected something a little livelier. Thought it would be like the Fronds." He exhaled a deep sigh before continuing in a louder, somewhat strained voice, "Didn't rehearse the lines, warm up the vocals, and the audience is particularly murderous tonight. Now you show up, thinking you can take everything from me, you and the Old Man running the show?"

_"When an irrepressible smile such as yours,_

_Warms an old implacable heart such as mine,_

_Don't say no, 'cause I insist._

_Somewhere, somehow, someone's gotta get kissed."_

"It might just be the toxic cloud in my system, but I vaguely remember making a speech about how you and I were gonna march in here hand-in-hand and take everything we want from this place. Remember that? You wanted a partner and I wanted one less person trying to kill me, and now we both want the exact same thing. So tell me, dear, why are you giving me a villainous monologue when we could be drinking and plundering? Or did you just forget about every little thing that happened before you reached those gates?"

_"I'll try hard ignoring those lips I adore,_

_But how long can anyone try?"_

"How could I forget?" Dean sneered. "You had me convinced for a time, I'll admit. Such pretty words, such a pretty girl. Vera Keyes was pretty too, that's why Sinclair built the place for her. You look like her, actually. Same hair, same nose, same pretty little words. I wonder, out of all these skeletons, which one belongs to her?" He turned on his heels to face her. "This heist? I planned it lifetimes ago. You and the Old Man? Tourists."

_"So, en garde, who knows what the fates might have in store,_

_From their vast mysterious sky."_

"What's he got to do with any of this?" She snapped. "Yes, I've been working for him, just like we all have, from the very start. Or are you really starting to believe that these collars are neckties?" She took a seat, swinging both legs up onto the table. "I'm not helping him out of choice, you know that. Actually, he sent me here to kill you. All of you. You really think you'd be alive right now if that's what I planned on doing?"

Dean faltered. "You're being serious, aren't you? I can feel the electronic tap-dance on these things, I know you're not lying about the killing part. And neither was he..." He trailed off for a moment. "I heard him on the speakers, the Big Man, told me all about this little plan you had to march in here and close the curtains on my performance, but, ah-" He cleared his throat. "That doesn't seem to be the case, does it?"

"He lied to you. Why?"

"Who knows, who knows?" Dean was fidgeting noticeably, one foot tap-tap-tapping against the polished stage floor. "Maybe he wanted it the opposite way around, a neat little plot twist to give you reason to attack. He wants me thinking that you're here to kill me, so I, ah, stage a little something special to make sure that doesn't happen."

"I spared the mutant, he must've thought I'd spare you too. He thought you'd get in the way like Veronica, so he made you a little more vulnerable."

"Figures," he spat. "Just needed a reason for you to put a bullet in my head. Looks like I'm still the handy toolbox man after all, even with my name in lights. Look, darling, we have ourselves in a bit of a predicament here. See, the Boss Man's little plan worked out well enough. For me, at least. I rigged some holograms to come out of the wings and murder you- should be here very shortly, actually. The security types, not the pretty ones in the frocks. And if you got in here, that door probably locked tight behind you, so don't back up or run for the exit. There are speakers all around the place anyway, ones you can't put a bullet through. You're not going to make it, dear."

Brianna straightened herself, swung her legs down from the table and got to her feet. "You were right about the bomb collars. They don't the work the same in here, but they still don't work like you think. Once mine goes off, yours starts beeping. And beeping. And it doesn't stop until you move to another floor, or your head's leaving a lot of trouble for the holographic cleaning ladies. 'Til death to us part, sweetheart. So what do you propose we do?"

_"Fight, fight, fight, fight it with all of our might,_

_Chances are some heavenly star-spangled night,_

_We'll find out as sure as we live."_

Dean Domino cursed sharply under his breath. "Everyone told me marriage was a trap. Never thought they meant it literally. Alright, uh, bank left when you see them coming, I'll have the door unlocked for you. I'll meet you back there, see if we can work out a more detailed plan."

"Sounds good," she agreed. "And Dean?"

"Yes, darling?"

_"Something's gotta give,_

_Something's gotta give,_

_Something's gotta give."_

"If you _ever_ think about cheating on me with the Sierra Madre, I won't think twice next time about putting a bullet in your skull. Understand?"

"The Sierra Madre and I have been swinging for a long time, sweet thing. You're the 'other woman' in this sorry affair."

"And here I thought we had something special."

He took a step back. "Doesn't look like the audience are laughing, dear. I think I'm going to, ah, step backstage for a bit, powder my nose-"

"Wait, Dean!"

He paused. "Yes?"

"Uh, your left or my left?"

"What? Oh." He laughed. "My left. Your right. Ha! Almost got you killed there," he chuckled, disappearing behind the curtain.

"Bastard," she muttered, turning around.

The holograms flashed into existence, stepping out from the wings on either side of her. She raced up the steps to her right and crashed into the door.

_Beep... beep... beep..._

She turned the handle and pushed.

_Beep... beep... beep... _

The door remained shut. She threw her weight against it, pushing the handle down as far as it would go.

_Beep beep beep beep._

"Open the door, Domino! Open the door!"

_Beep beep beep beep beep._

She pounded frantically on the wood, pushed and punched and pleaded.

_Beep beep beep-beep-_

She could heard a crackle of electricity behind her, and knew it was already over.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-_

She gave a final, desperate shove.

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep-_

And then it opened.

She threw herself inside and fell into Dean Domino's arms. He held for a moment, just to keep her upright as she caught her breath. The ghoul bolted the door and turned to her. "You know, sometimes I really can't tell if you're playing the Femme Fatale or the Damsel in Distress."

She wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips. They tasted of copper and cold. "I love to keep people on their toes."

"Then I'd best find my dancing shoes, dearest. We've plenty of songs left to dance to before the grand finale."

"I'm looking forward to it, baby."

She smiled, and together they headed down the corridor until they reached Dean Domino's dressing room.

"Ah, yes, this old place," he said. "There's a radio back there, try to turn it off instead of- ah, too late."

After putting a bullet through the radio, Brianna gave the room a quick scan. It might have been beautiful once, with its red and white walls now peeling and faded, and the blue carpet beneath her marked with all manner of dark stains. The mirror was cracked into pieces, framed by busted bulbs. On the wall next to it was a photograph. She took the frame in her hands and mumbled "Pretty," when really Vera Keyes had been beautiful. She could just about see the resemblance between herself and the dead woman, with her small, pointed nose, high cheekbones, strong jawline and dark hair. But she was softer than Brianna somehow, and certainly prettier, with her dark hair twisted up above her head and decorated with a crimson rose. Her eyes were big and dark and shining, her pale skin flushed red at the cheeks.

"She was alright," Dean replied. "Seen better."

"What can I say?" She said, as she turned to the safe in the wall. "I just have an effect on people."

"Don't you worry, dearest, you're the most-" He paused. "What do you plan on doing with that?"

Brianna took a moment to assess the safe. The wall had crumbled around it over time, and some blunt force had knocked loose whatever lock had once held it shut. "I hope you weren't hiding anything way back when," she said, searching through the meagre loot. There was a box of ammo, a couple of magazines and a few large stacks of pre-war money. "Pornography, chem stash, compromising photos?" She pushed back the useless currency and stopped. There was a holotape hidden underneath. From the corner of her eye, she could see Dean Domino watching her. His right hand was tense against his pistol.

"Maybe you aren't as interesting as I thought you were," she said, swiping her Pip-Boy over the tape. "Nothing but some useless cash and a holotape."

"I wouldn't keep my darkest secrets somewhere so obvious."

She shut the safe and followed him out of the dressing room. When Brianna saw what was up ahead, she gasped.

"Jesus," she croaked, edging closer towards the skeletons. There were three of them. The one nearest to her foot lay with its arms outstretched, as if reaching out towards the skeleton opposite. Next to the first was some kind of doctor's bag and two empty syringes. Next to the second was a revolver. And between the two... Brianna forced herself to look. Between the two was a tiny skeleton, staring up at her with dark, empty sockets. A teddy bear remained in the child's loose grasp, as if it were reaching out to the toy for comfort. For a moment she couldn't see past that broken skull, that discarded gun, those tiny arms so desperately reaching. "What happened here? Why are there so many of them?"

"The Bomb happened," he replied. "It's an ugly story and I wouldn't want to scare you, sweetheart. Keep moving."

She could sense that he was on edge as they continued past the skeletons. Brianna recovered some stimpaks and casino chips from the storeroom they found before reaching another room marked with a yellow star. The name VERA was written below. She entered before Dean could protest, wondering if she could dig up this ugly story on her own.

Vera's room was even more luxurious than Dean Domino's. The carpet looked cleaner this time, deep and red and soft beneath her feet. There were more brightly-lit mirrors - each one broken - as well as a dressing table and large couch. A radio was playing from a table in the corner. She switched it off, spotting the holotape on the bed and moving to scan it.

"Might want to take that with you," Dean advised. "I know how this works."

She picked it up and put it in one of her pockets. "How?

"We head to the sound room up above the theatre. Play a little tune for the holograms and they go back to being pretty women in frocks."

She took the holotape with her, finding an empty pocket of her armour to slide it into. "You sure about that?"

"Positive. Now get a move on."

She took a step towards him. "Hiding something, Domino?"

"Of course n-"

_"Pretty as a picture," _came Dean Domino's voice when she pressed Play.

_"Uh, Dean, I- I didn't hear you come in."_

_"I'm not wearing my dancing shoes, Vera, so I walk a little softer now. What, did you think I was a Chinaman come to cut your American throat?"_

_"Dean, really."_

She felt a glacier freezing in the pit of her stomach as the sound of struggling played out, as if Vera was trying to push him from her.

_"What, no hug? Come here."_

_"Dean, I'm getting ready."_

_"For what? You sing like a bird, pop the safe, and we're through as through can be."_

_"Dean, I- just- about tonight, I- I don't know."_

_"You don't know? __I ask one simple favour from you and you tell me no?"_

_"I didn't say no. I just said, I- I don't think-"_

_"That's right. You don't think. I don't need you, you know. I'll send you back to the farm, worse off than you were because you've tasted the Sierra Madre, seen it all and had to let it all go. I could have gotten any leggy dame out of Hollywood to get out here and play Sinclair's heartstrings. You just happened to be the one I caught, and it was really your own fault. A little too much into the chems and- oh, darling, don't cry. I'm not trying to hurt you. Just one last little job, a little less dirty, a little less messy. He trusts you, Vera. And so do I. After all this, I promise you, those holotapes? They'll just go away."_

_"Of course, Dean."_

"Ah, I see what this is. Think you're so clever now, because you found that old thing? Want me to give you a round of applause?"

"What were you blackmailing her with?"

"What _wasn't_ I blackmailing her with? Chem use, indiscretions, more chem use, the usual Hollywood tune. I don't want to talk bad about her - she was a classy woman, good singer. Stress case, though. Throat was shot, all nerves. When she wasn't doped up on Med-X or superstimming her pain away... But Sinclair didn't need to know any of that, about her history. She was his entire world. And like him, people are the architects of their own misfortunes. Leave themselves wide open for someone to waltz right in and take what they want. So you take a few pictures, get a little dirt, and that person's your piano."

"Is that what we are, Domino? All this time, have you just been playing me like you played Vera Keyes?"

"Trust me, beautiful, I only kept you sweet all this time so you didn't put a bullet in my skull as soon as we stepped in here. Lucky things worked out the way they did, me waking up on stage all safe and sound. Well, safe from you, at least - not so much from the audience. But you were the one who let me right into your head. I'm the dashing man that makes you feel a little less like a corpse, isn't that right? Oh, don't look at me like that. You welcomed me right into your head and offered me a cup of tea while I was rummaging around inside it. And I'm your only friend in this place. The mutant? Useless. More likely to eat you than hold your hand, and the others? They've been gone for a long time, probably found each other by now. Not that it matters. I'm the only one who knows how to get into the vault."

"Tell me."

"Elevator's right up in the Executive Suites. Voice-activated. Speak the right phrase in the right voice and it's _open sesame. _I was able to snag the voice - or I thought I had. The right tone and phrasing, well, that might take some time."

"What are you talking about? What voice?"

"Vera's voice, of course. Vera Keyes is the _key_ to the vault, isn't that just punny? Didn't realise there were so many holotapes of her around or I wouldn't have had to go to such lengths to- look, here's the short of it. Piece together Miss Starlet's songs in the right order, work out the password, Sierra Madre opens its legs, and we're in business."

"Why do you want this, Dean? Before we start all this, tell me why."

"Because of Sinclair," he snarled. "All high-and-mighty, lording over everyone. Built this entire place all for Vera even though _I'd _been there first. Acting so self-righteous like nothing could touch him. Never got mad at anything, nothing seemed to shake him, even as his life got dragged - through - the dirt, over and over and over again! Always kept looking for the bright, shining future in everything, so I decided to take all that away."

"Why? What did he ever do to you?"

"What did he ever-? Weren't you listening? He thought he was _better _than me! This big casino, this big colossal monument, think it was for some woman? No!" His hand slammed down on the dressing table. "No, never for Vera. All ego, all self-righteous-in-lights, fit him all perfectly. Had to take him down a few pegs, bring him down to my level. Begin again? No. Some things you don't get up from, and I was going to prove it."

"Prove it? How? He's dead, they're both dead! You don't have Vera's voice - we have nothing!"

"Details, details, so insignificant. But I thought so too until the Boss Man showed up. And the girl along with him, after a time. The one with the scars and the hand signs - doesn't talk too much, does she? But when her voice heals up, she'll be singing sweetly for us, I promise."

"Son of a bitch. You put her in there?"

"Locked her in and tuned her up, what does it matter to you? You don't know her, you don't care. It's the other one I'm worried about, her_ friend."_

"She'll kill you." It wasn't a threat. "Won't waste a second when she finds out who did it."

_"If _she finds out," he corrected. "You're going to keep your mouth shut. We're partners in this, remember? I trust anyone with a bomb collar around their neck a lot more than I trust the man with the detonator, but you and I, we have to stick together. So go on. I'll head up top, sweeten the crowd while you run along and finish things up with the other little partnership up above."

"Why shouldn't I put a bullet through your skull right now for what you did to Christine? To Vera?"

"Because I'm all you have left. Not just in here, no, not from the way you were talking. There's nothing left for you out there, out wherever it is you're going. I could wave my gun around, tell you how I'm the only one of us who has the key to the sound room, only one who knows what phrase to say into the speaker, but why waste my breath? When you go into that vault, I'll be the only one at your side."

"Veronica," she breathed. "She's my friend, she'll stay. Even after all this."

"You think so? Tell me, dear, who was it that stayed with you at the Villa to make sure you didn't die of blood loss? Who was it that talked your sweet little Veronica out of knocking you out and leaving you to the Trappers?" He waited for her reaction. "Surprised? I was too. Of course, it was in my best interests to go ahead with her plan, but the collars were still joined up out there, didn't want to go down with you. And I _like _you, even more so when you aren't about to kill me. We go together, you and I. Partners. So I spared your life, I told her to run along and let me handle things, and you repay me by threatening to shoot me. How inconsiderate. But relax, she won't kill you when her little friend's life is at risk. I'm not going to force you away, but killing me would not be in your best interests right now. So what do you say? Partners?"

"Of course, Dean."


	45. Last Luxuries

**EXECUTIVE SUITES**

**AUGUST 10**

**14:04**

She had to fight her way to the elevator. After using the terminal outside of Vera's dressing room to thread together the songs from the holotapes she'd found, Brianna saved the entry phrase onto her Pip-Boy and left the Tampico Theatre behind her. Dean had shut down hologram security by then with the promise that he would join her when he could, leaving the doors unlocked. But worse things lay beyond, endlessly more terrifying than masses of blue hardlight dressed in party frocks. There was death in the Sierra Madre, and this walking cessation had claws.

The lobby was silent at first, unnaturally still and reeking with age and neglect. And then a shadow in the distance opened its eyes. A bear trap tore through silence and skin as the first Trapper came at her from behind. She skewered it through the eye socket with her knife and used her free hand to twist the creature's arm around full circle. She threw the limp body back and sliced upwards, reducing its left arm to a writhing leech at her feet. She inwardly praised the impossibly sharp weapon in her hand before using it to promptly disembowel an oncoming Seeker. Its entrails were sickly blue snakes, soon splattered with the blood of its decapitated head.

She knocked another two Trappers down the stairs and watched as they mutilated each other's limbs with their bear trap fists in their struggle to rise. A burst of laughter escaped past her lips, just before she noticed the spear flying in her direction. She swerved, letting the weapon lodge itself into the wall behind her as she fought off an oncoming Seeker. It leapt towards her with a gas bomb in hand, eyes burning like some verdant hell. She should have been afraid. She should have emptied the air from her lungs into a desperate scream, praying to beings she didn't believe in that someone, somewhere, would hear her. But it was the Sierra Madre she feared now, not the shadows it cast.

She sliced off the bomb-wielding hand without a moment of hesitation. While the Seeker shrieked and stumbled back, she yanked out the pin and tossed it over the railing, laughing in the creature's face as it exploded on the ghost people below in a shower of sparks. She grabbed the back of the creature's head, digging her nails into the soft flesh beneath the hazmat suit and dragging it away from the railing. It made no attempt at resistance as she pulled it closer, until her nose was almost brushing against the fabric of the suit.

_"I'm not afraid of you anymore."_

And with all her strength, she slammed she Seeker's head through the spear on the wall. The fabric split with a satisfying _rip_, drowned out by the Seeker's agonised shriek. The handle slid easily through the back of its head, leaving it hopelessly stuck and writhing in pain. It grasped uselessly for the handle, somehow alive despite the thick blue river of blood pooling along the tiles. She holstered the knife and fired three ringing shots into the Harvester across the room, sending it flying to the ground. _But it's a trick. _So she strode calmly towards the monster, crouched over its limp body, and ran her blade through its neck.

* * *

><p>Vera Keyes was the ghost that guided her through the maze of the executive suites, past the holograms and the skeletons and the thick pockets of Cloud. She'd followed her voice across the afterlife and out of it, let it guide her to and through the doors of life and death. It had dragged her here screaming. It had lulled her to sleep. It was the toxic knife of lies in her back and the sweet crawling of promises down her throat. And here it was again, as she held her breath and allowed the hardlight phantoms to pass her by, as she forced her way through death's red haze and found her way to the dead woman's suite. The door was huge and gilded with gold, wide open to reveal the vast expanse of the room beyond. The walls were red, and the carpet beneath her, and the lampshade above her head. The windows were stained with the stuff, as bright as the blood on her skin.<p>

"The quick scribe... jumped over... the lazy paladin..."

She found them in the next room, lying together on a languorous sprawl of a bed. Veronica's head was resting on Christine's shoulder as the once-mute woman struggled with a voice that wasn't her own. And for a moment - just a moment - they almost belonged there in that suite. Almost normal. Almost guests. Almost lovers from a long-dead time. But Brianna O'Reilly had been a phantom for far too long; she'd seen this image in front of her a million times before, and these hopeless illusions lasted long enough to kill you. So she slammed the door open and let her presence devour the light from the suite behind her. Veronica's eyes snapped upwards. She straightened into a sitting position, eyes widening a fraction in what might have been relief or terror. Her hands closed around the spear on the end table.

Christine put a hand on her arm. "Let's not start waving our weapons around just yet. Not here."

They got to their feet, watching Brianna like she was some kind of hostile animal that would pounce at any second.

"Wait," she said, before Veronica could speak. "Tell me why."

"Why I tried to leave you behind?"

She nodded, her throat tight as she waited for the answers she knew were coming.

"Why wouldn't I? You never gave me any reason to want to save your life. In here, in this place, we have to look out for ourselves. Isn't that like something you would say? Wouldn't you tell me to leave other people behind if that's what it took to survive? That if people can't fend for themselves they deserve to die?"

"No. No, not anymore, I don't-"

"Right after your little breakdown at the police station I knew you'd be dangerous. And, look, I get that good people do bad things in the wasteland, but that excuse just doesn't cut it when you go marching into Vegas on a suicidal revenge mission. You're a vigilante. You're a self-righteous hypocrite. You abandon people. You think you're some sort of damaged hero, but you've never been as much as that. So why the hell would I do a goddamn thing for you, after you pulled a gun on my girlfriend? You said you were looking for Heaven, and I was prepared to help you find it. Besides, you said it yourself. _I'm a fucking corpse and I don't care what happens to me. _That's what you told me. Maybe I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Bullshit!" The word echoed off the walls. "How can you stand here in this place, after all we've done, and lie to yourself like that? Doing the right thing didn't cross your mind for a second, not a goddamn second when you left me to those monsters. I don't care what you had to do to keep yourself safe, but don't lie to yourself, Vee. You didn't leave me for this place, you didn't leave me for her." She gave Christine a sharp look before turning her attention back to Veronica. "You want New Vegas. I know you do. It's a citadel, it's power armour, it's everything you need to keep the Brotherhood alive, that's all you want. Just be honest with me. You can do that much, right?"

"Why should I? I don't owe you answers, I don't owe you anything. And don't pretend that you wouldn't have done the exact same thing, like you haven't already tried. You want honesty? Ask yourself something. If that was me out there, screaming for help with my leg stuck in a bear trap, what would you do? You're the woman who ran through fire for the New Vegas Strip, you're the one who took a bullet for your future. You didn't crawl through this place for me, and your heart didn't stop beating and start again for some ghoul in a tuxedo, either. So think about it. Would you save me?"

"Yes." The answer came too quickly, sounded so false, so forced. But she meant it. "Yes, I would have saved you. If throwing myself in front of a spear meant that you got out of here alive, I'd do it. Maybe not out there, back then. But I meant everything I said. There's nothing for me here. There never was, right? I guess I knew that all along, knew that everyone here had their own reason for following that voice in the first place. Me? I wasn't running towards the Madre, I was running away from the Mojave. I was the spare. _Me. _I was the one who should have had that different collar, the one you should have pulled on a gun on, the one you should have killed."

"Brianna-"

"If only one of us gets out of here, Veronica, it has to be you. If only one us makes it to that vault, it has to be you. If only one us makes it to Vegas, gets the chance to change something, change the world, it _has _to be you. You're the smart one, the one who told me to go back, the one who followed me in the first place to make sure I didn't get killed. You're the one who showed up to save my life even though you wanted me dead. I _trusted_ you. We both want to make a difference, make the world a better place, but you're the only one that can do it."

There was a long, weighted pause before Veronica replied.

"This place really did break you, didn't it?"

"Only woke me up."

"Lucky. I didn't wanna kill you anyway. Not really. I'm not like that. And I guess I don't want this place to make me like that."

_Like you, _was what she didn't say. _I don't want this place to make me like you._

"Love makes people do strange things," Christine said, glancing in Veronica's direction. "No one's arguing that. Like that little speech Veronica gave you back in the switching station to keep you away from me. Like how you've been helping that pre-war madman right from the start. Like the reason you came here in the first place. Veronica told me what you did, who you are. You came all the way out here for some woman, just like the man who built this place. This casino, if that's what it really is. And she did what she did to survive. We all did. So this is your chance to accept that, put it all behind you so we can all get what we want. We don't have to kill each other. It doesn't have to end that way. Guess Vera Keyes knew what she was talking about."

Christine stepped aside to show Brianna the large scrawl over the headboard, two words written in lipstick.

**LET GO.**

The message nestled in her gut, dulling Christine's words as icy tendrils snaked through her stomach.

"The ghoul," Christine said, "Where is he? Can we trust him?"

"I think so," she replied, shaking herself from her daze. "He knows what he wants, more than any of us do. He helped me find the key to the vault, helped me get away from the holograms back at the Tampico. I think he'll wait behind until Elijah's dealt with." She took a deep breath. "So what happens now?"

"I don't think he's going to let us leave. He's not one for sharing, never was." Christine reached out her hand, fingers intertwining with Veronica's. "This is where it ends. For him or for us, I don't know. Collars might go off as soon as we get down there, maybe before. We might be able to buy ourselves some time by getting him to meet us in person."

"And then we'll kill him," Veronica said with stone-cold finality. "That's always been your game, hasn't it?"

"He can't be allowed to live, not after everything he's done. If we get out of this, Veronica, I'll tell you everything. You'll understand."

Veronica gave her a small smile, then turned to Brianna. "You said you had the key to the vault?"

"It's a phrase. Dean and I had to string together some of Vera's songs to figure it out."

Christine looked sceptical. "After all this, all the security holograms and the traps, it's really that simple?"

She hesitated. "It's voice-specific. Has to be spoken with _her_ voice. Vera's."

"The starlet." Christine visibly tensed. "So it was Dean Domino after all. I always wondered about him. Kept looking at me, like he was studying me or something. I trusted him enough to get by, but... Wanted to rewire me, make me sing like the starlet, is that it? Guess I can't complain about it now. Voice hurts too much for that. Alright, I'll play dumb about it. At least until we're out of here. What's the phrase?"

"Begin again, but know when to let go."

"How appropriate." She took a step forward, but paused. "You said there was nothing for you down here. Why don't you leave?"

"Because I'm still learning to let go."

* * *

><p>"This is it, then," Veronica breathed. "That slow or sudden end."<p>

"You don't have to come with me, Vee."

"You said that last time, remember? Look how that worked out."

Christine's smile never reached her eyes, fixed on the speaker ahead of her.

_"Begin again, but know when to let go."_

As the casino came alive with a loud mechanical yawn, Brianna wondered if she really was letting go.

_I let go of Vegas. Sunny. Everything before that. Even me. It's all gone. Nothing left._

She supposed that was why she'd decided to stay. She couldn't remember making the decision, but it seemed like the right one. She could be a vigilante all over again, watching over the casino, killing ghost people, living in luxury for the rest of her life. Living in that quiet world she could never have. The world that Elijah dreamed of. There would be no one here to tell her what to do, where to go. And she could protect people. People just like her. People who had left a piece of themselves in every place they'd wandered to, and had fallen apart so slowly that it took a bomb collar around their neck to make them realise they had nothing left to lose.

_And that is why failure is unthinkable._

"Hey." Veronica brushed her hand against Brianna's arm. "Before we go, I-"

"I don't care about apologies, Veronica. After this is done, they won't matter."

"What do you mean?"

"I- I guess I'm staying. I know it sounds stupid. I know you don't understand. But I have to stay here."

"And leave everything behind? Everything you worked for? Everything Sunny died f-?"

"Don't," she hissed. "Don't say her name in here. That woman didn't die for Vegas, she didn't die for me. She died because I was an idiot and someone thought I had to pay for it. She died because someone wanted to teach me a lesson. She died so someone could make understand that I can never rule New Vegas. _Never. _If you get out of this alive, if you can find the Platinum Chip, it's yours. I mean it. You can have everything you ever wanted."

"You're actually serious, aren't you?" Veronica didn't look concerned. She looked terrified.

"I am," she agreed, her voice cracking audibly. "I can't go back. I can't go home."

Veronica pulled her into a hug. She returned it, holding her tightly and murmuring apologies as tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision so much that she didn't see the syringe in Veronica's hand, didn't see the _"I'm sorry" _forming on her lips, didn't see a cigarette drop onto the carpet as the floor rushed up to meet her. She fell into a cold embrace, and thought no more.


	46. Dead Money

**error: subject_deceased?**

**running vitals...**

Her blood was burning in her veins, searing through her skin, eating her alive.

**ALERT! Detecting Unknown Substance!**

Someone had their hands around her throat. She couldn't breathe.

**calculating arm #1 . . . Detecting Mild Injury . . . .**

She writhed in agony as a scream ripped through her, leaving her gaping soul behind.

**calculating arm #2 . . . Detecting Open Wound . . .**

She could taste lightning between her teeth, hear the flames crackling through her as her fist lashed against the ground like a gunshot.

**calculating head . . . ****calculating head . . . calculating . . . recalculating . . . error: subject_deceased?**

Sleep was her lover in this flickering consciousness. Sometimes it would take her, and hold her, and plant sweet kisses on her eyelids until she couldn't feel a thing.

**recalculating . . .**

She didn't want to fight anymore. She wanted to leave her burning corpse behind and let her agony bleed from her, learn her lesson, learn to let go.

**subject death confirmed_ disengaging Pip-Boy 3000 [TM] lock . . .**

But she grasped for consciousness with trembling hands, opened her body to the nuclear storm that raged above her and devoured the earth with every inch of her body. Her bloody feet pelted across the echoing ground and she embraced the abyss with arms open wide, letting the thunderclaps shake her soul and rattle her bones as she became one with the whirlwind, laughing at the sky as bolts of radiation tore through the crimson haze and crackled in her lungs. There was an earthquake in her throat and her ribcage housed hurricanes - her soul was a tsunami and she was electric with life and rage and purpose.

**Beginning countdown to lock disengage_**

Someone had their arms around her. She thrashed against the stranger's grip, clinging to the life that lay inside her, reaching for destruction as she was dragged back to shore. She wriggled and twitched and fought against death's sweet stench as it crawled back inside her, dragging her back from the perfect chaos that lived in her soul, breaking through the fabric of her fever dream with greedy hands and a voice like a graveyard. She fell back against something soft. Her vein was pierced with something cold and sharp. For a moment, her heart stopped. Her body shuddered.

And her eyes shot open.

"Oh, relax, would you? It couldn't be that bad."

**Heartbeat Detected . . .**

She gulped down a breath, tasting metal on her tongue as she dragged her shaking fingers through her hair. She was back in the bedroom, back in the casino, back in the ghost town she'd almost left behind. A bitter chill clung to the room. She drew her body in tighter, curled up in a trembling ball as sweat dripped from her forehead and her heartbeat began to steady. She took a long, deep breath.

**Subject_Alive!**

"What happened?" She rasped. "How long-?"

"About seven minutes, give or take. Lots of convulsing, choking, coughing up all kinds of unsavoury things. They injected you with some kind of Cloud concoction - shoddy work, but it did the job. Don't worry, you haven't missed the grand finale. Not yet, anyway. Took a cigarette break, stepped outside for a bit, saw what was down below. Lots of blue people here to see the show. You're familiar with the type, aren't you? Big fans of ours. Anyway, Vicki and Vance back there - or should I say Vicki and Vicki? - won't have the easiest time making it to the stage. You have time to get out, and I have time to powder my nose before the Boss Man's taken care of."

She croaked something unintelligible as Dean Domino stepped towards her and pressed something warm against her lips. The initial taste was sharp and sour before the alcohol kicked in - some kind of fruity cocktail to mask the taste of Antivenom. She swallowed it gratefully, still feeling razor blades in her throat when she spoke again. "What are you talking about?"

"Rapt as always, my dear, always asking the right questions. That's why I hoped this little partnership of ours would work out. But now you're out of action, those murderous broads want you dead, and this contract's just about up. But I'm not going to leave you. I still have an old, rotting heart somewhere inside me, and you do a great job of getting under people's skin. No, no, I'll let you go. You can just walk out, right now. Or crawl, perhaps, whatever suits you."

"And then what?" The room span around her, red and red and red and red and red. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take what's mine. The treasure, the secrets, all of it, and I'm going to rub it in Sinclair's smug face because he can't do anything about it. I'm going to let him know that he lost everything, after having so much. Even lost his Keyes! Ahaha!" She could just make out his blurry image, watching him double over in hysterics. "Did you see her, dear? She's in the next room, waiting for me to come back. Been waiting quite a while actually, not much skin on her now. You look more like Vera Keyes than Vera Keyes does, how funny is that? Still wearing that pretty red dress and everything. If only she was here. If only she'd survived to see this through 'til the end, oh, then it would be perfect."

"How long will it take for them to get to Elijah?"

"How long? Oh, they'll be there a while. Don't know how many rooms and walkways it is, but there's enough. And I'm sure all of them are crawling with holograms. Sinclair would've been very particular about that. Oh, yes you would, wouldn't you? Stuck-up old bastard, always have to rub everything in my face. So what are we waiting for, sweetheart? You ready to exit stage right? Or do I have to kill you?" His words broke off into uncertain laughter. "That would be a show, wouldn't it? Your little friend stabbing a syringe into your neck, that was an excellent plot twist. I'll have to match it, won't I? Make things dramatic for everyone watching at home, yes! Excellent!"

"You're crazy," she breathed, still too weak to raise a hand in defence. She heard a soft _click _and there was a gun against her temple.

"Looks like this ends with only one of us coming out alive," Dean Domino said.

"Looks like it does." She managed a smile and turned to face him. "And it looks like the Madre finally unhinged you, Dean."

"Unhinged? I'll tell you who's unhinged-"

"Sweetheart, I get that murdering me would be a wonderful turn of events. But I have a better idea."

* * *

><p><em>This is crazy.<em>

She ran a wet cloth over her naked body, watching with idle fascination as thick blue gunge peeled off her skin. Vera Keyes' dresser and vanity table held enough goodies to make her look the part, but a starlet couldn't arrive on stage dripping with blood. So she took her time, scraping off as much of the dirt as she could manage before moving on to the skeleton, sitting on a plush red chair surrounded by empty syringes. The sight was enough to make her cry. And she did, silently, as she undressed the soulless, smiling remnant of the woman who was meant to survive this place.

This casino had been built for her. It was so clear now, so obvious that she didn't know how she'd ever missed it before. The holograms, the skeletons, the vault that would only open to her voice, her song. The Villa was built like a house of cards. It was post-apocalypse silver, beautiful to look at, but no one would use it to armour themselves. But the casino was almost impenetrable. It was all for her, to keep her safe after the bombs dropped. But the one who'd built this place hadn't known he was killing her. She found the syringes as she dressed, letting the long red garment fall over her with a forgiving sigh. They were hidden in end tables, under her bed, inside the auto-doc in her suite. She'd given the machine a quick look and found that its Med-X supply was depleted. So she'd been sick. Dying, maybe, or at least in a lot of pain. Something told her that it was more than just an addiction. Heart check-up routines stored into the auto-doc's memory, a thumb through her journal which told her all she needed to know about regret. About fear. About letting go.

As she grieved silently for the long-dead woman, Brianna in turn became her. The dress was beautiful, long enough on the left side to brush against her ankle, as high as her thigh on the left. But the dress alone wasn't enough to turn her into Vera Keyes, even as she painted her lips red and outlined her eyes with black. Her freckles were still visible even after a dusting of powder, her scar still present even when she smoothed the skin over with too-light foundation. Her hair would still be just a shade too dark even when she ran a brush through it, yanked the head off a plastic flower and tucked it behind her ear. But she only needed to convince one person.

"Pretty as a picture," came Dean Domino's voice from behind her.

"Uh, Dean, I- I didn't hear you come in," said Vera Keyes, hanging a string of pearls around her neck.

"I'm not wearing my dancing shoes, so I walk a little softer now. What, did you think I was a ghost person come to cut your beautiful throat?"

"Dean, really-"

Her stomach lurched as he moved towards her, visible from the mirror on Vera's vanity table. She turned to face him.

"Dean, I'm getting ready."

"For what? Safe's open, sweetling, we're through. Only thing stopping are those two broads, but you can let me handle that."

"You're not gonna hurt them, are you?"

"Not any more than I have to, I promise." He put a hand on her arm. "They're in our way, darling. You didn't see them earlier, practically frothing at the mouth when the casino rumbled to life. They'll be there soon. I'll just need two bullets, and all our little problems will be gone, understand?"

"Of course, Dean."

* * *

><p>The vault system was a maze of walkways. Dark, cavernous, with thick pockets of Cloud billowing upwards from the ground. Veronica and Christine had disabled the holograms, leaving flickering blue remnants behind on the walls. Some of the emitters had been destroyed entirely, but occasionally they came across a room where they had all been manually shut down via one of the hacked terminals. The radios were busted, the speakers were broken, and nothing stood between them and the vault. Nothing except the two women on the walkway below, leading towards the giant steel door.<p>

"You've got a lot to answer for, Elijah." Christine's voice echoed off the walls like a death knell.

_"Do I? For what? Your greed? Your curiosity? You came here on your own, no one held a gun to your head. Thought Big Mountain would have been enough to scare you away for good, but no. You crawled right back into the trap. And Veronica Santangelo... No, knew you'd be too smart, too suspicious to go following that signal. It was your friend, one with the Pip-Boy, she brought you here. And now you've been ensnared, now you can't leave. More her fault than yours."_

"She wasn't the one who strapped a bomb collar around our necks. She was sick, she was_ dying - _and you were the one who brainwashed her. You made her want to help you, you made her think she was dead. And now she's gone." Her voice broke at the word. "She's gone, she's _dead,_ and she was never to blame. I know that now. You're the one who's gonna pay for what happened here. No more barriers, no more hiding behind screens."

"Hiding? Hardly. _Trapped. _You weren't the first to get in, open the Madre, no, I had others. Other hands, other bodies. I've made more corpses than you could count, but some managed to unlock the casino door. After that? Madre closed tight, wouldn't let me go. There was no way out. Not until that Pip-Boy signal came alive in the Villa. Still, I'm not leaving. Not risking it, not when I'm this close. You're resourceful, you and her, not risking it. I have time, more than you. I can activate the turrets. Might do that n- wait. No need. Your friends are here to kill you."

Veronica's eyes darted in their direction. Her eyes widened a fraction, but she quickly turned away as Dean Domino clamped a hand around Brianna's wrist.

"You do something stupid, darling, and those holotapes will be played all over this casino before you can sing another sad little note."

She struggled against him, but his grip was unwavering. "Let go of me!"

"Let go, let go, that's all you ever squeak about these days. Just wait. Soon enough they'll be dead and we'll be inside."

_"Always traps them. The secrets on that terminal, the messages. Ensnares them."_

"You're insane. You're insane!"

_"Go ahead. Open the vault, if you want."_

"No!" Veronica's voice rang out across the room, echoing through the walkways above, rebounding off the walls. "You think I came here for treasure, for secrets? You think I care what's locked inside that vault? I'm here to destroy you. Everything you worked for, everything you are, I'm gonna burn it all down unless you meet me face-to-face." She cut off his attempt to interrupt. "Don't say that I won't! It'll take me seconds to put my fist through the elevator controls and keep you trapped up there. Either you come down, or you stay in this casino forever and rot."

_"You'll be trapped. It's the only way, back you won't-"_

"We're dead anyway!"

She couldn't hear Christine's protests, couldn't hear Elijah's fierce denial. She felt Dean's grip tighten around her wrist and something inside her snapped. Brianna swerved and slammed her fist into the ghoul's face, throwing him back against the wall. The next blow cracked his sunglasses. The next split them down the middle. She slammed him against the force field when he tried to break free of her, pressing herself close to him and pushing away the broken glasses with one hand so she could stare into his eyes. The irises were impossibly pale, floating in a sea of red.

"You could have had so much," she hissed. "You could have had everything."

"N- no, this- this wasn't part of the show, dear-"

"The treasure, the secrets, _me!"_

"Not now, not when we're so close, don't-"

"You threw away everything! _Everything! _All because you wanted some petty revenge against a man who died centuries ago. All because this wasn't exciting enough for you, this little show, because you couldn't be the star performer." An invisible hand was tightening around her throat. "We were the ones who were going to make it out. You and me, together, taking everything we wanted from the Old World. But you let this place get to you, Dean, after all this time. Two hundred years to finally snap. Why?!"

"It's not over yet! The music's still playing, credits aren't rolling yet, we still have time-"

"There is no time! This is over, Dean! This is where it ends!" She reached for his gun. Pressed it against his jaw. "Show's over, Domino. Take your last bow."

She pulled the trigger. Dean Domino's head snapped back against the forcefield, his body crumpling beneath her as thick clots of blood oozed out from the hole in his head, carrying pale grey fragments of brain matter and skin. Pale grey floating in a sea of red, just like his eyes, just like the casino. She felt that familiar numbness crawling out from her heart, eating up her insides, flowing through her veins. And she carried that monster with her as she sped down the metal stairway, carried the beast that had so often tried to devour her from the inside out, let it be her strength as she threw herself in front of the girl who had to make it out. She shoved her gun against the scar tissue on her temple. Her ecstasy was almost sweet, as she consoled herself with the knowledge that at least she'd come to life again, at least she'd had it all. For a while. At least there'd be something left of her to kill if these seconds became her suicide.

"Get out." Her voice was iron. Her voice was steel. Her voice was post-apocalypse silver and she was beautiful as she stood there, crimson dress caressing the scars on her skin, gun pressed against her head, trembling lips ruby red and tasting like blood. She wasn't strong enough to be armour, never strong enough to be a shield. But she could be a grenade. She could be a Molotov cocktail. She could tear this whole place down. "Get out of here, both of you. I'll destroy this place, just like you want. I'll be dead, he'll be trapped, you'll be able to go home."

_"What is this? What are you doing?"_

"No, I'm not letting you do what he wants. He talked to us through the intercoms, he said you were trying to help him. This weapon he's after, you want it too, you-"

"I don't want that, I never wanted that. Maybe once, maybe for a second-"

"Come down, Elijah!" Veronica yelled, desperation bringing an edge to her tone. "We're gonna deal with this mess one way or another!" She took a shaky breath, then glanced back at Brianna. "Pull that trigger and Christine dies too."

"Not if you leave before he sets up those turrets. You can go, you'll have time, I'll-"

_"You're bluffing. You're bluffing!"_

"Willing to take the risk?!" She bellowed, edging towards the vault entrance. "I'll do anything to bring this place down!"

_"No! Wait. I'll meet you face-to-face, at the vault entrance. If you resist, I'll use the collars. You and Christine, you'll both be dead. If Veronica survives, I'll keep her here, lock her up, show her what it feels like."_

"Yeah? You can try."

* * *

><p>Her footsteps resonated through the vault. The <em>click-click-click <em>of her heels was the only sound to break the silence. And then the astonished gasp from deep in her throat as she took in the Sierra Madre's treasure. The walls of the vault were lined with supplies - Rad-X, Psycho, more stimpaks than she could count. There were weapons, ammo, armour, clothing. And then there was the gold. A simple wooden table with the Sierra Madre logo shining above it. A smiling goddess extending her arms outwards in a welcoming embrace, the words BEGIN AGAIN stamped across her chest, was positioned almost protectively above the gold bars. Standing in three high pyramids, they glittered enticingly among thick stacks of Old World money. Brianna stepped towards them, mesmerised, lifting one from the top of its tower to feel its weight and texture. Then she got to work. She retrieved the briefcase that lay beneath the table and began to fill it with as many bars as she could. She managed almost an entire pyramid before the case was full and her back was bending before the weight of it. She locked up her fortune and carried it in trembling hands, moving for the centre of the vault where a flickering terminal stood. Two files revealed themselves - **Vera **and **Personal Accounts. **She clicked Vera's and began to read.

**Vera, if you're reading this, my fears have come to pass, and this is an apology.**

**I hope you realized what my last words meant to you. If so, they have led you here, and this place will keep you safe. I know what they meant for me, and I fear they have trapped me here.**

**I have extracted the previous entry after our conversation tonight. It can't have been easy for you, and I am sorry for all I've put you through in silence. I know while you do not love me, you did not [ERROR! DATA_CORRUPTED]**

**38SFDBFHuhsui83083hfshbgIDGUQR_**

**I knew about your plans to rob the casino with Dean before you told me. Hearing it from you didn't make it any easier. For what it's worth, I am glad you told me yourself, and I understood the tapes Dean had in his possession. ****I do not think either one of you realized what your addiction [ERROR! DATA_CORRUPTED] desire to keep it from others.**

**When first building this villa, this casino, I meant it for you. As the world seemed to race headlong toward war, it became part of my desire to [ERROR! DATA_CORRUPTED] ****thoughts were dark. I changed the casino vault from a shelter to a trap, as I knew the first one to enter would be Dean. He would die down here, and it would have been by his own hand.**

**Uudsfi83947295gdhgfyYIgyG_**

**If you come down here, do not access my personal accounts entry. That message is for Domino, and it will shut the vault door behind him for good.**

**There should be enough in the Vault to sustain you until help arrives. I have ensured that there are enough medical supplies down here to keep you comfortable. ****The holograms should defend the casino from any attackers, and the hologram beacon in the Villa will broadcast an emergency signal so that others know you are here.**

**When the danger has passed, rescue will come.**

**I hope you were able to read this, and know [ERROR! DATA_CORRUPTED!]**

So the secrets hadn't amounted to much after all. She supposed she'd almost been expecting that. What feelings could she possibly have mustered for two long-departed souls who had never even loved each other? What malice could she find for a man who'd only done his best, and for one who'd sought to take it all? What was there to gain from some centuries-old scandal about a pretty girl with an addiction to painkillers? This place held treasure enough to sustain a madman with a vengeance, but poor dead Domino had lost his chance the second she'd set foot in here. It wasn't the treasure that would be difficult to let go. So she turned her back on the Sierra Madre's secrets at the sound of mechanical whirring from the elevator outside. Veronica was waiting for her at the vault entrance, her bear trap fist clenching and unclenching. Christine stood on the opposite side, loading microfusion cells into her holorifle.

Father Elijah stood at the end of the catwalk.

"Think this place is yours, don't you? Think you were the one to find it, to plan all this? No. You stumbled in here just like all the others, desperate, foolish, hungry for gold. They all heard the legends, the curses. Foolishness about the Sierra Madre lying in the middle of the City of the Dead, buried beneath a blood-red Cloud. A bright, shining monument luring treasure hunters to their doom. Those stories brought them here, just as they brought you. But they didn't understand. It was never about the secrets, never about the gold or the chance to change your fortune. Finding the Sierra Madre, that's not the hard part."

Christine met him in the middle of the walkway and pressed her rifle into his chest. "I know what the hard part is," she hissed. _"It's letting go."_

She pulled the trigger. Elijah reached for her weapon with one hand, throwing off her aim. The projectile seared through his shoulder, staggering him long enough for Christine to send three more shots whizzing his way. Veronica threw herself into the fight, clamping her metal fist down on Elijah's arm and slamming her elbow into his face. She didn't seem to feel the holographic bullets biting into her flesh as she slammed her bear trap upwards into the Elder's jaw. He spat blood, attempting to shield his face with his holorifle as Christine sent another burst of blue light in his direction. Together, they drove him further and further down the walkway, shutting down every attempt at resistance. And then he was stumbling back towards the vault entrance, about to find his fortune.

Veronica and Christine lowered their weapons and Brianna faced her demon. He raised his rifle. She raised her treasure, raised all she had left in the world and slammed the briefcase into the side of his head. She could have screamed forever. She could have yelled and raged and shouted her anger into the void until every sense was dead and gone and her flesh was peeling off her bones. There was so much she could have said - that she had learned to let go a long time ago, that this cruel lesson was far too much for a single person to teach but, oh, she would show him how it felt to have Vera Keyes' burn her message into his soul. But there would be time enough to curse his name and this place, time enough after the Sierra Madre was far behind them. So she drove him back and back and back into the vault, making her downfall her weapon and swinging the case once more into Elijah's skull, audibly cracking a row of teeth and knocking him to his knees She let the gold bars clatter to the floor and left the cowering Elder behind in the vault.

"Casino's gone bust," Brianna smiled. "See you on the other side, scumbag."

Father Elijah crawled towards her, his pallid flesh glistening with blood. As Veronica tapped at the entry terminal, he spat blood on the floor and said something that might have been _"Forgive me." _But then he smiled a pitch-black smile and fired one last shot. The casino door slammed shut. Brianna fell to her knees. She regarded her death with blank surprise as Elijah's final gunshot tore through her flesh and her stomach and her consciousness, and she knew no more than the faintest sensation of victory before the casino swallowed her whole.


	47. Departure

**EXECUTIVE SUITES**

**AUGUST 10**

**17:32**

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #739 . . .**

_"Show's over, Domino. Take your last bow."_

**ADMINISTRATING MED-X . . .**

_"I'll be dead, he'll be trapped, you'll be able to go home."_

**ERROR! SUPPLY DEPLETED!**

_"Think this place is yours, don't you?"_

**CONTINUE PROCEDURE?**

_"Finding the Sierra Madre, that's not the hard part."_

**YES_**

_"It's letting go."_

The pain was immense, beginning in her stomach and stretching out its white-hot tendrils to wrap around her limbs. The auto-doc held her in place, icy metal arms burning into her bare flesh. As it cleaned away the clotted blood from around the gaping wound, she remembered. It had only happened minutes, moments ago, before Elijah's last message had burned through her consciousness. She'd watched the vault door slam shut, heard echoing footfall around her head, felt no more than the welcoming embrace of a golden woman with the sun in her smile. But she hadn't forgotten a single moment.

It was the Heist of the Centuries, after all.

A strangled sob tore past her throat as the machine got to work. Mechanical tools dug their way inside her stomach as she screwed her eyes shut. She bit down on her lip until blood pooled in her mouth, distracting herself with thoughts of home, thoughts of Sunny, thoughts of places far, far away from here.

She thought about the gold she'd left behind, the taste of copper on her tongue, the man she'd never wanted to kill. Dean Domino had been her only hope in the Sierra Madre, her only certain ally in that valley of the dead. She wondered what had driven him off the edge after so many hundreds of years choking on a toxic cloud. Maybe it was Vera Keyes he saw in her, bringing back memories of a time that should have been. Maybe it was just her. Something exciting, something new, a partnership only seen in the movies. She hadn't loved him. He hadn't loved her. They had fallen in love with the idea of each other, him the embodiment of Old World Blues, something she had never seen before and couldn't hope to know again. Her, the Mojave Desert wrapped in leather and skin, a nuclear fission in her soul and the taste of ashes on her lips. She had almost been his escape. She had almost been his everything.

The story might have been romantic if she hadn't put a bullet through his brain.

That thought made her laugh. The sound was a tiny, feeble thing beneath the banging and clicking of the auto-doc, but her laughter continuedeven as the machine dug deep into her stomach. It was the sound of exhausted, broken triumph. The sound of walking back from a drunken night, forgetting where home was and finding it beneath the stars. It was the sound of waking up with nothing but the broken pavement beneath you and knowing that nothing mattered because this, at least, was life. It was the sound of the Sierra Madre, the sound of wealth and fortune and hope and having to leave it all behind, knowing that her life was worth so much more. It was the sound of living, because she had survived the Sierra Madre, known its fortune, had a taste of the secrets it kept. And she would leave it all behind.

She had learned to let go.

* * *

><p>While no one was watching, the Sierra Madre had died a quiet death. The holograms had flickered into darkness and the courtyard was silent and still. The streetlights had gone dark. The speakers had shut down. The gates swung open and the bomb collars disengaged with a mechanical hiss. They fell to the ground with a clatter of finality, the only farewell this place would ever offer. The three survivors walked hand-in-hand, knowing that their fortune could never have been found here, knowing that their future lay beyond the blood-red cloud. So they let the casino fall into the distance and not once did they turn back.<p>

They were free.

* * *

><p>"It happened at Big Mountain," Christine went on. "It was a research site back in the day, way before the bombs fell. We thought the place had been destroyed by the war, but it was the first place Elijah went after he was exiled, the first place I was sent on my mission to find him. I only saw glimpses of the tech they had - saturnite alloys, teleportation devices, neurological implants and cybernetics, just breakthrough after breakthrough after breakthrough, all lost to history. I recognised the materialisation techniques from the vending machines in the Sierra Madre - a lot of its tech was made at Big Mountain. Even the ghost people, believe it or not."<p>

"The hazmat suits were designed by scientists and war experts to be used in combat by soldiers. In the case of a life-threatening injury, the suit would take over and walk the soldier back to base to be treated. But it didn't happen like that. The research was discontinued after a trial run on the battlefield. Soldiers would go missing for days, weeks, still wearing the suits after they'd died. They would just be walked off into the middle of nowhere, left to bleed out or dehydrate. Those ghost people, I think they were soldiers. Dead, but still a body for the hazmat suits to use. It doesn't make sense, I know. The embalming, the spears, the bear trap fists. I think that they were kept alive somehow. Or other people, others who followed the signal, were-" She paused. "But it's all just speculation. I think it's better that we never know what created those monsters."

"Anyway, Elijah. He's the reason why my hair won't grow back, reason for the scars on my face. I tracked him to an old Chinese-American internment camp full of ghouls. Ghouls wearing bomb collars. When I tried to intercept him, he sent the camp ghouls against us both like walking bombs. Got hit by the explosions, woke up in some prototype auto-doc lab. The place was manned by more corpses trapped in suits. The more I think about it, the more it seems like Elijah reprogrammed the suits to do what he wanted. He opened up my head, lit it up like a flashlight. Tortured me. Only hope I had was another man I found there. He let me stay with him, helped me get by for a while. He never told me his name, but he said he was a courier."

Brianna bristled.

"He was strange. Cryptic. He helped me track Elijah to the Madre. Talked about another courier a lot. Said he had a message for her, a kind of-" She frowned. "Do you know this guy? You're giving me a look like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Tell me what he said."

"He said he had a message for her, the courier. 'Make her walk the road west, straight and true, sink her feet in the Old World ash. Let the storms tear at her skin. Let her see The Divide. See what happened.'"

Brianna's blood turned to ice. "The Divide was destroyed. There's nothing there."

"I said that too, and he told me I was right. Said there's nothing there, just like there's nothing at Big Mountain and nothing in the Sierra Madre."

Veronica watched Brianna uneasily.

"You're that courier," Christine realised. "It's you."

"It's me," she confirmed, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "It's always been me."

There was silence for a long time before she found her voice again.

"I'm gonna tell you everything," she promised. "Both of you. I think you can help me. I know what we have to do."

* * *

><p><em>"Wait. Before you go.<em>

_Farewells can be a time of sadness. Letting go, difficult. As a guest of the Sierra Madre, you know that truth better than anyone. Frederick Sinclair believed that one's life could be made anew every day, that fortune was more than the wealth in your hands. Love. Life. Family. Those you can care for and those who can care for you. To those who know these joys, the Sierra Madre holds little you don't already have. Out in the world, beyond these walls, that is your chance to begin again. I hope you'll return in happier times, where we'll be free to share our fortunes and hold on dearly to what we have. But until that day comes, the Sierra Madre and I will hold you in our hearts. Goodbye. Good luck._

_We hope you enjoyed your stay."_


	48. Wildcard

**A BROTHERHOOD BUNKER**

**AUGUST 13**

**06:47**

Broken and bleeding, they made it to the bunker.

The journey took days of stumbling through the desert's burning heat, forcing down warm slivers of water and rationing out ancient packaged meals before their food supply was reduced to fried rat meat and a few meagre handfuls of barrel cactus fruit. Brianna's flesh was seared, her dress torn, her bare feet blistered. Her lips were red with blood instead of lipstick, her eyes dark with an intensity to match the burning sun. The endless stretch between the Madre and the Mojave had been wiped clean by the war; a blank slate.

Just like her.

Brianna's bag sat neatly in a corner, zipped and undamaged like they'd never been gone. They gathered their things without a whisper, without a word. Their was a hollow silence in the bunker, a lingering beast just waiting to pounce. She knew the pain would hit when they stepped outside again, when they cleansed themselves of the Madre's toxic residue and returned to the Mojave Desert with their solace and scars. The grief would hit her like a punch in the gut, she knew that all too well. They'd left the Sierra Madre behind them, but the memories would leave their scum in her lungs and plague her restless sleep for nights to come. The image of a headless corpse strapped to a table, of glowing green eyes piercing through the darkness, of jagged words written in blood.

**_Left my heart in the Sierra Madre._**

Veronica was the first to leave. Christine lingered. She cried and cursed and cracked beneath the weight of her victory. Then she followed.

Brianna stayed. She stayed and thought and remembered, and she knew what she had to do. She remembered fragments of conversations, remembered everything Veronica had told her, and everything Brianna had promised. The words of Mr House echoed in her mind, the empty assurances of a dead man walking and her stumbling inner thoughts. And in those few moments of gathering her things and saying goodbye, she understood more than she had in a long, long time. The Sierra Madre was a snowglobe, built to look beautiful and built to shatter. It was House's New Vegas, never a treasure, but a vision. A shadow. A dream. A symbol of fortune and a message of hope, a promise that everything could be just the way it was, just the way it should have been. A chance to change your fortune.

A lie.

She wouldn't allow New Vegas to be turned into one man's vision, one man's obsession, one man's idea of what hope was supposed to look like. The ghost of Vera Keyes had guided her back here, and her restless spirit would not settle in Brianna's mind, would not let her turn her back on the people of New Vegas. But she would not become that woman. That was the difference between herself and Vera Keyes. Brianna refused to be a ghost in name and image, a lone woman trapped by her own promised fortune, crying out for help long after the world had forgotten her name.

So she shook out her hair, put a bullet through the radio, and made her decision.

* * *

><p>"Alright, Freeside's just down there. You can stay at the Lucky 38 for now, if you're certain about this."<p>

Christine shot her a sideways glance, amusement glittering in her eyes. "You really are a big deal, aren't you? Courier Six turned out to be a lot more than just some washed-up cowboy who pissed off the wrong person. This whole thing with New Vegas, the Platinum Chip, this journey you're heading off to, it's all about to change everything. Maybe the world, if we try hard enough."

"Only if I do it right."

"You sure you can make it?" Veronica asked.

_"Don't want you bowing out before the show starts, right?"_

"Yeah, of course. The journey's gonna take a couple days, but all I need to do is keep the raiders off my back - and trust me, I'm good at that. I just need you to get into Freeside, bring me back some armour and a rifle so I'm not trailing across the Mojave in a pretty red dress. I can't go back there until this is done. House probably thinks I'm dead by now, and I want to keep it that way until I get to the Fort." Brianna cut off her attempt to interrupt. "I get it, alright? You don't want me attacking bushes in the middle of the night because I think they're ghost people. But I need to be out there, Veronica. It's like home. And if I can't go out there by myself anymore, if I can't face the Mojave alone, then I have nothing left. I can't let you come with me. Not this time."

"Well, we all know what happens when I follow you on ridiculous journeys," she replied. Then she pulled Brianna into a hug. "You forgive me for trying to kill you right?"

"Haven't we had this conversation?"

"Only six times."

Brianna smiled. "Only if you forgive me for trying to kill you and your girlfriend."

"No hard feelings?"

"Nothing personal."

Veronica managed to return the smile. "Hey, good luck out there. Don't get yourself shot this time."

"I'll try my best. I need you to stay in Freeside for a while, spread the word. Tell them something's coming. Tell them I need help."

"You want things just like they were when we left the Silver Rush?"

"Bigger."

"I'll get it done."

* * *

><p>Home was just like she remembered it. The sun creeping over the sandy horizon, painting the world all shades of amber and gold. Cacti grew tall about the desert, the only visible life for miles around. Coyotes howled at the cloudless sky and gunshots chattered far away. Rusted vehicles lay crushed against the wall of the cavern, remnants of forgotten people who had travelled this road centuries before her. She had seen these sights a million times, knew all these roads from memory, could tell the time from the position of the burning sun and the shadows that fell around her. But something was different, she sensed. Something had changed.<p>

After the first day, she knew it was her.

Her footsteps were heavier, firmly rooted to the ground by a new sense of purpose. Her eyes, mind and heart were fixed on her objective as immovably as the marker on her Pip-Boy, only straying from the road ahead at the sound of some predator nearby. This courier was a creature of solitude, curling up in forgotten caravans to rest only when her legs wouldn't carry her any further, then walking for miles on end by day, warning away passers-by with a hostile glare. The anger in her eyes told them that she would not stop to say hello, would not pause to trade her goods. The flash of her pistol told them that she didn't want to stop for a game of cards, that they could never match the stakes of the gamble she was taking.

Days passed, and she longed for abandonment. She almost hoped that Christine and Veronica had done their job and left her behind, taken off into the desert never to return, never forced to bear the weight of that shining roulette table and House's holographic smirk. At the very least, she hoped they'd found Cass. Would they tell her how sorry she was, take her in, make sure she was okay? Would they find her passed out in the Wrangler, too drunk to even curse the name Brianna O'Reilly? Or was she already dead in an alleyway, feeding Freeside's bloated rats?

She shook that image from her mind, choosing instead to think about the people she was doing this for. The smiling blonde woman who had died of Brianna's self-doubt. The starving people in Freeside who were thankful for whatever greasy strips of irradiated meat they could salvage from the rodents that slept in their homes while New Vegas socialites complained about their extravagant portions served up on silver platters. She was doing this for the hookers in Gomorrah who stumbled along the Strip in quaking heels, every one of them earthquakes in their own right, but too far gone to cause tremors. She was doing this for the doctors of Freeside, for Julie Farkas with her eyes full of hope. For the Brotherhood, if this would save them. For the passing merchants and mercenaries, for the couriers just like her. For every man and woman who had suffered the lick of a Legion whip, who were driven to the ground by the NCR's desperation. She would do this for all of them. And, if she could, she would save them.

On the third day, she reached Cottonwood Cove.

* * *

><p>"Ave. The Great Caesar has been expecting your arrival. Are you ready to travel to the Fort?"<p>

"That depends," she replied, matching the legionnaire's calm tone as she strode across the boardwalk. "What'll happen there?"

"You'll be meeting face-to-face with The Mighty Caesar himself, founder of the Legion, conqueror of eighty-six tribes. This is the first time Caesar has summoned one of the Dissolute to see him. Not even tribal chieftains receive this honour. And for a woman, well, you should understand how rare an opportunity is for one of your sex."

"I'm sorry - what was that about my sex?"

"Women are physically and intellectually inferior to men. Their role is to bear children and ensure the survival of our species."

"Then explain how I've ended more lives than I've created."

He faltered. "Well, it isn't to say that all women are equally incapable. I'm sure The Almighty Caesar will find good use for a Dissolute like yourself." He must have noticed the confusion on her face, huffing an impatient sigh before explaining, "All who are not Legion are Dissolute. They live in squalor, unrestrained by morality, lacking moderation, temper, and self-control. Their very existence is a blight upon our struggling planet."

"Is that why you nail innocent people to crosses - so they can get a better view of your upstanding morals?"

He narrowed his eyes accusingly. "I assumed you were here so Caesar could make use of you."

"I'm just here to talk with him."

"Then you'd best watch your mouth, woman." He spat out her gender like it had a bad taste. "I won't let you on this boat if I'm suspicious of your true intentions."

Eyes sparkling with devilish glee, Brianna opened her palm and dangled the medallion in front of him. "This little thing says otherwise."

"Get on the boat, Profligate."

"So not only am I Dissolute, but now I'm a Profligate? And a _woman _too, oh, that must sting. But here's a reminder before we go anywhere." She took a step closer to him. "I've fucked more people than I can even remember and my morals are as loose as a Vegas hooker - I would know, because I used to be one. I have breasts, a womb, a uterus, and a vagina that bleeds on a regular basis, but guess what? I'm _better_ than you. I'm the one who The Almighty Caesar is waiting for. I might be the one who decides if he lives or dies. I'm the one who opened up the Lucky 38 and planted my feet right on Mr House's welcome mat. Your precious ruler might have the biggest, meanest bitch-breaking cock the world has ever seen, but this dainty, fragile little woman has the power to cast him down."

She took the Platinum Chip from her pouch and flicked it high up into the air, catching it neatly between two fingers.

"Take me to Caesar or I'll do just that."

* * *

><p>"By the order of Caesar, all visitors must disarm and relinquish all banned items. This order also extends to the Platinum Chip you carry - for now."<p>

"Do those orders apply to Courier Six?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Profligate," the legionnaire sneered, moving towards her with arms crossed. "You're being given the honour of a face-to-face meeting with The Almighty Caesar himself. Show some respect to his vast glory and do as you're bade."

"I know exactly where Caesar can shove his vast glory."

His hand lashed out and clamped around her wrist, sending a jerk of pain through her arm. "Don't you know where you are? This is the heart of the Legion, you stupid woman. You may hang Caesar's mark between your breasts but that doesn't mean you aren't surrounded by enemies. We know who you are, what you've done. Obey Caesar, respect his laws, and you may pass freely. Openly rebel and I'll have Antony drag you naked into the arena. You won't look so smug when all you have are your bare fists against his fiercest dogs."

That scared her into keeping her mouth shut. She remembered something Sunny had said once, beyond a barrier of earth-green tents. These armies were above her, she'd said. She needed to start using her head, she'd said. But that Brianna had just been some courier, another steely-eyed traveller whose words would never be as pretty as her face. This Brianna was just the same - loud, brash, with no tolerance for some slaver's sense of superiority - but this time she was something important. Someone who could decide the fate of the Mojave with the roll of a dice. Someone too precious to put a bullet through. But she stripped off her weapons and pouches nonetheless, handing them over to the legionnaire along with her bag and the Platinum Chip. She knew that getting the Chip back depended on how she behaved, and bit her tongue as a silent promise to show some restraint. She would never agree with this ridiculous band of marauders, but Sunny had been right. This was something bigger than her. And it was the Platinum Chip that would help her take down this army, not a few snide comments and an eye roll.

After heading past the glowering guard, it didn't take long for Brianna to meet her first slave. She had just reached the base of the hill when the woman stumbled towards her, muscles trembling beneath the colossal weight of the pack she held above her head. Her pale skin was almost transparent, revealing thick blue veins that snaked across her bruised arms. Her lips were dry and torn, eyes rimmed with heavy shadows, sweat dripping down her face. Brianna glanced back towards the Legion camp. Most of the legionnaires were asleep in their tents at this time of night, and those still awake were loud. Steel sang against steel as young recruits trained in the arena; the grating sound of a blade dragging across stone scratched at Brianna's ears as a blacksmith sharpened a wicked machete. Everyone she saw was occupied, perhaps too consumed in their work to notice her and the passing slave.

"Let me help you," she hissed, gesturing towards the heavy pack. "We can hold it between us, right?"

The woman looked up at her, brown eyes wide with fear. She shook her head and struggled on. Brianna didn't follow. Maybe she couldn't help this woman now, but if everything went right, she could do an awful lot more than just help some slave girl carry a load. She could dismantle this place entirely, send it crumbling to the ground if she willed it so. If she hadn't gone crazy, if there really was a chance of her coming out of this place alive, she could save them all.

God, she hoped so.

* * *

><p>Caesar's tent was open-topped, leaving nothing above them but the stars that twinkled in the velvet sky above. She had expected something lavish - at least by tribal standards - but although the tent was as large as any house, it was decorated only by a faded red rug and matching drapes. Two small fire pits crackled on either side of the main room, with a heavily armed praetorian guard standing by each. And right in the centre stood the throne of The Almighty Caesar, with the man himself seated on it.<p>

He was, to her surprise, a remarkably plain-looking man. His hair was white and thinning, his tanned forehead creased with age. His grey eyes held none of the icy depth she had expected, like the man who had sent for her in the first place. If it weren't for the feathered cuirass he wore, with the mark of his Legion emblazoned at the breast, it would be near impossible to separate him from any other ageing man. That almost made him more terrifying than the monstrous warlord she had conjured in her mind.

"Ah," he said, sitting back on his throne and looking her up and down. "So you're the one who's been causing so much trouble. The one who, so I heard, wants to take New Vegas all for herself. You go running around the Mojave, flaunting that Platinum Chip with no idea of what it's used for. You wave that pistol around, do some mouthing off and go running back to Vegas for your reward, yet you still have the nerve to even suggest that _maybe_ you have some bigger role in this game. You don't know where your loyalties lie and you clearly aren't here to fight for my Legion. So tell me, Courier Six. What are you doing here?"

"You gave me safe passage," she replied, ice rippling down her spine.

"And you fell for that? Really?" Caesar straightened himself. "Because I'm going to have you killed now."

She froze. "What?"

"You slaughter twelve of my men just for the fun of it, you get shot in the head and travel the breadth of the Mojave to put a bullet in the guy who pulled the trigger. You waltz into the Lucky 38 like someone left a key under the doormat. You take direction like some kind of excitable puppy, running from one place to the other because someone tosses something tasty. You know what we do to puppies here? We beat them. Starve them. Shape their minds until they're tearing out our enemies' throats. Vulpes and I talked about hanging you up and using you as a training dummy, but since you want to save everyone from their sins, I'll have no trouble nailing you to a cross and letting you rot out in the Mojave sun. How does that sound?"

Her stomach heaved. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and she reached for the pistol she wouldn't find and-

"Relax. I'm fucking with you."

"W- what?"

"I'm fucking with you," he laughed. "You do know why I wanted to meet you, right? I heard you started off as some Vegas hooker. Don't know where you were before that and I don't care - point is, not even a year ago you were selling your ass on the streets of New Vegas. Big job comes up and you wind up bleeding in some ditch like all whores do out here. Except you come out alive, with a pretty scar to prove it. You seduce the man who tried to kill you then murder him in his hotel room. Not only do you get into the Lucky 38, but you run through a bombardment at Nellis, make contact with the Boomers for the first time in history. I don't know where you've been since that, but you sure take direction. I don't know what you want, Courier, but you want it bad. When you set your mind to something, you get results. I like that. So the question is: Are you ready to get started?"

She didn't know how to react. She was caught in a bear trap _screaming in pain, face twisted in agony, they were coming from all sides they were going to pull her apart she couldn't breathe she was going to die, _unable to refuse his offer in case he decided to crucify her for all the Mojave to see. House had said something about a bunker, something about weather. She needed free roam of the place, to find the area where she could activate the Platinum Chip. The Platinum Chip, which she needed to get back. It was time to tell more lies.

"How can I serve you, Almighty Caesar?"

"Please, call me Caesar," he laughed. "And you can serve me by telling me why you're really here. You had all the luxuries of the Lucky 38, happily sucking House's dick to get out of sucking a thousand others. So tell me, what's so special about my dick? What makes you want to fight for the Legion?"

"Mr House is manipulative monster. All that man wants is to shape New Vegas into the image he dreamed of over two hundred years ago. He doesn't care about the Mojave, he doesn't care about anything outside his vision. Neither do the NCR who only want to roll over the top of it. I'm not going to pretend that I love the choice I'm making, but this is a war, or it will be soon. I don't have any more time to decide. I think you're the only one who can help me."

"That right?" He paused for a moment, thinking. "You really want House of the picture?"

"More than anything."

"Good. The time is fast approaching when my Legion will assault the Great Dam and invade the west. Before that happens, I want Mr. House knocked out of the game, a quick one-two punch - with you doing the punching. Down the hill at the west edge of camp is an old building. Inside that building there's a hatch, and inside that hatch are two steel doors that bear the sigil of the Lucky 38 casino. Interestingly enough, there's a slot about the same size as a poker chip on the console that opens the hatch. So you know what I think?"

"That the Platinum Chip opens those doors."

"Exactly. I tried prying them open, drilling them, blasting them, nothing works. Now I don't know what's down there, but I know House built it, so I want it destroyed. Go down there. I'll send someone down with your weapons and equipment. Take this fucking Platinum Chip and burn that place to the ground."

"Funnily enough, burning places to the ground is something I do best."

* * *

><p>"You're behind schedule," drawled Mr House, as Courier Six stepped down into the bunker.<p>

"Becoming a Legion recruit takes work, House. And a few days worth of travel time."

The room was small, with House's giant screen and console stretching over most of the far wall, but Brianna suspected that there was something much bigger waiting beyond the doors ahead. The Platinum Chip had opened up the steel bunker as soon as she'd pressed it into the coin-shaped slot, and that smirking face had been waiting right behind them.

"Over a week's worth?"

"It's the west we're dealing with here; people aren't as pretty and sophisticated as they are in New Vegas. Got caught up with some slavers, had to travel with them for a couple of days until I found the chance to kill them. Bastards took me off guard while I was asleep." _I was sixteen. We had a caravan. They killed my parents. _"You're lucky I made it when I did. Lucky I made it out alive."

"Well, no matter. You were quick with tidying up the business with the Boomers, so we appear to be more or less on time. My schedule leaves plenty of room for human error, of course. Caesar wants you to destroy whatever's in this bunker, I know, but that's not what you're going to do. After your little tantrum, your desperate run off into the desert to try and escape, you've decided that you wanted to work for me after all. And that's exactly what's going to happen here."

She gritted her teeth and swallowed her uncertainty. This was what was best. "What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to manually upload the data from the Chip to the facility's primary computer. There's a terminal at the other end of this place, but there's a slight complication. While I can broadcast to this screen, I can't control any of the facility's systems. That means I can't deactivate the security robots, most of which appear to active. But you've surprised me before; I have no doubts about your capabilities."

"We'll see what happens."

"Yes, we will. I like to think you have enough sense to do the right thing. The rewards for doing so are immense. As are the punishments for disobedience."

Brianna got to work. The first Protectron was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, firing a wave of plasma in her direction. She turned and stepped behind the wall, swiftly untying a grenade from her belt and tossing it down.

Clank, clank, clank.

Bang.

She ran down the steps. The room was empty aside from a number of pulse grenades and - she grinned with delight - a pulse gun. She grabbed it, emptying a few rounds of ammo into a spare pouch and tying some new grenades onto her belt. She slammed her palm down on the button for the next door, raising her Pip-Boy and switching on the radio.

_"Got a doll, baby, I love her so,_

_Nothing else like her anywhere you go_

_Man, she's anything but calm -_

_A regular pint-sized atom bomb!"_

The next few bots were a breeze. Brianna O'Reilly twirled and spun through every section of the vault, one quick blast from the pulse gun enough to fry each robot from the inside, out. She dodged a spray of laser beams from a turret in the corner, dashed through to next room and took down three Mr Gutsys with a single grenade, laughed as a falling Protectron wished her goodnight before clattering helplessly on the floor.

_"Atom bomb baby, loaded with power,_

_Radioactive as TV tower,_

_A nuclear fission in her soul,_

_Loves with electronic control!"_

She sliced through another turret with her axe before hurling it in the direction of an oncoming bot. Three shots from her pistol busted through the head of a Robo-Brain, but the Sentry Bot was her biggest channel. She had to leap and dodge and duck away from every steamrolling lunge of the giant machine, loading bullets into its back at every chance she got in the hopes of weakening its power system. It was a wild game of cat-and-mouse that ended with the Sentry Bot guttering to a halt and initiating a self-destruct sequence. She was forced to slam her pulse gun into its back and wrench open the seal, exposing the fusion cores inside. One more shot to its power system ended that catastrophe, and brought her one step closer to her promised fortune.

_"Atom bomb baby, sweet as a plum,_

_Carries more wallop than uranium,_

_When she kisses, there's no hitch,_

_Zero power - she turns on the switch!"_

She switched the radio off when she reached the next room. The only robots left standing were encased behind thick layers of glass, staring down at her with blank screens, waiting for her to activate them. They were Securitrons. Her footsteps rang out through the room as she strode calmly through it, moving slowly and deliberately, twirling the Platinum Chip between her fingers.

This moment was hers.

_"Surprised? No, I didn't think so. __Beautiful, though, aren't they? Bitter means to a glorious end. You can activate them from that console using the Platinum Chip, but I'm afraid the rest will have to be done manually. These Securitrons were built to function off the grid of New Vegas; they'll respond to your commands. Upon activation, they'll travel to the Lucky 38's underground facility via a network of tunnels. I'll have them lock themselves around the outer walls of the city for you - I understand that you like to make an entrance. All you'll need to do when you reach them is tell them who their leader is. That will be enough to make them part, make them follow you if you wish. Do what you do best, Courier. Make a statement."_

* * *

><p>She walked towards the gates like a queen to her castle, greeted by hundreds of flickering faces. House had done exactly as promised, and the Securitrons were waiting for her outside the walls of the New Vegas Strip. Excitement rose in her chest like a mushroom cloud as she yelled commands into the air, told her soldiers who their leader was. She broke through the streets of Freeside with thirty tin soldiers marching behind her, launching missiles into the air. The streets were pulsing with the anger of a thousand people, all parting to allow her passage as the Securitrons fired missiles into the air.<p>

"Courier Six!" She screamed. "My name is Courier Six and I'm about to drag Mr House into the ground!"

"Fuck Mr House!" Came from all around her. "Fuck Mr House!"

"Fuck Mr. House!" Brianna called back. "Fuck pre-war men and their snowglobe visions! Fuck the man who wants to see you all dead so he can plant some more casinos on your graves! Fuck the man who thinks that he can rebuild the world with wine bottles and poker chips! Fuck the man who lived for two hundred years while we died out in the wasteland! Fuck Mr House!"

Someone took her right hand. Someone else took her left.

"Fuck Mr House," Veronica smiled, as Christine shouted encouragement at her side.

"Fuck Mr House," Cass drawled, "and fuck you too, Brianna O'Reilly."

Brianna laughed, unable to prevent the drunken excitement shaking through her as they broke through to the New Vegas Strip, followed by her yelling companions and the robot army around them. She watched as men and women stumbled out from the casinos, only to duck back inside when they saw the riot on the streets. Many rushed to meet her, some to support her, some for the sake of joining in on the anarchy.

"I'll lead you!" Brianna cried. "I'll end Mr House! I'll destroy the Legion! I'll defend Hoover Dam with everything I have!"

Cheers and shouts of agreement rose up around her. Some cursed her name and threw bottles in her direction, but she barely heard them.

"I'm one of you! I'm one of the people House left to die, over and over and over again! I can fight for you! I'm a person, a real person, I'm right here! I'm not some synthetic voice, I'm not a face on a screen! Courier Six is real! Courier Six is alive! And I swear, I will do the best I can for you! For all of you!"

Above the cheers, above the laughter, above the raising chorus of _"Fuck Mr House!", _she heard something.

**"MANUAL SYSTEM OVERRIDE. NEW SYSTEM ADMIN: ROBERT EDWIN HOUSE. PROCESSING COMMAND."**

Her vision flashed red. She shut her eyes and opened them to find herself surrounded. Her Securitrons were locked tightly around her, weapons aimed directly at her torso. She couldn't hear the yelling. The rest of New Vegas were far, far above; she was plunging into water and she couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't swim and she was drowning, grasping at the sun so far above, sending bubbles up towards it as a desperate plea for help.

She knew what this meant.

They were outside the Lucky 38 casino. The Securitrons shifted around her, forming a path directly to its entrance, blocking her way out.

This was another invitation from Mr. House. This was a message.

_You made a mistake._


	49. Gone Bust

**THE LUCKY 38**

**AUGUST 18**

**01:45**

She entered the Lucky 38 with a smirk on her lips.

Two Securitrons wheeled up to meet he as she entered the elevator. When the doors opened out into House's penthouse suite, she laughed out loud.

"Find something amusing?"

She strode calmly down the steps, looking up at House's screen with an expression to challenge the dripping sarcasm on his digital face.

"Care to share the joke so we can all laugh one last time before I explain to you, in minute detail, exactly how I'm going to destroy your life?"

"Actually, I think I'll save the joke for the end. But go on, explain."

"You know about the fortune I could have brought you. The rewards for helping me see an end to this war could have been immense. Do I need to remind you of the equipment, the technology, the riches that could have been yours? And as you know, Courier, I can easily have you stripped down and thrown out into the streets for that excited crowd you gathered up. Don't think they'll waste a second before ripping you to shreds. You are nothing to them but a means of getting me out of the way. After that? Anarchy. No laws, no rules, no incentive to keep the Three Families from killing each other and taking each other's women as prizes, just like in the Old Days before _I _rehabilitated them, turned them into something civilised. Did you think about the destruction that might be caused by my death? The people who would seek you out and put another bullet in your head? You don't think I have my own supporters?"

"So you admit it, then. You're just a man behind that fancy computer. You can be killed."

"Take one step towards that terminal you're eyeing and I promise you, Courier, it will be your last."

"Why are we having this conversation, House?" She was unable to keep the amusement from her tone. "You know there's no way I'm working for you again. Why bother trying to convince me? The things I've seen out in the wasteland, before I ever reached the Fort, they scared me more than you ever could. There were no raiders, no slavers, but there was something that made me realise why you can _never _be allowed to control this place."

"Save me the epiphany, would you? I'm going to tell you something that will change your mind. You've been considerably valuable to me; it would be a shame to get rid of you so soon. Finding capable hands isn't an easy business. I could offer millions of your precious caps to anyone on the Vegas Strip who might consider helping me, but I find that someone like you is a lot easier to work with, less hungry for money, more ruled by fear and hope. You might just be irreplaceable. We'll find out in just a moment."

"What could you possibly tell me that could ever change my mind?"

"I can tell you that your friend is alive."

She shut herself down, tightened her fists, bit her tongue until blood pooled in her mouth.

"You really are pathetic aren't you?" She spat. "What, is Sunny out there on the Strip, waiting for me to come back out? Are you gonna kill her if I refuse you?" She barked out a laugh. "Fuck off, House! Sunny Smiles died in New Vegas and I swallowed every morsel of her flesh because you did a really shitty job at 'rehabilitating' the Families. You thought you could turn a tribe of cannibals until something classy? You wanted to paint the Wasteland in Old World colours, that's all you wanted. To make everything look rich and beautiful without having to really save a damn thing. You offered tribals the chance to be part of your 'sophisticated' society, and you got people killed for it! You don't care what happens to anyone on this Strip, only that more come to eat your food and drink your wine and gamble in your casinos so they can forget about how you're leaving everyone else out there to die!"

"You don't-"

"No." The intensity of the word was enough to silence him. "I'm not helping you. And if you want me out on the streets for everyone else to enjoy me, fine."

She dropped her bag. Let her assault rifle clatter down, followed by her pistol. She stripped off her utility belt, undid her armour, let it fall at her feet. In lacy red underwear did Courier Six stare down the monster who had ripped away everything she had. Her gaze was unwavering, her fists clenched tight at her sides. From every camera, every wall, every angle of the room, Mr House could watch Courier Six destroy him. She didn't falter, she didn't break, even as Securitrons moved in from all sides, just as they had done once before. But this time was different. This was another kind of suicide.

"Do I look like one of your hookers, House? Just wait until the bruises set in, until you can count all my ribs, until you can see my veins through my skin. Just wait until I jump at every loud noise and start sleeping with a gun under my pillow. Wait until my hair falls out, wait until my feet are broken and bleeding all over your tiles, until my eyes go dim and empty and I'm dead in an alleyway feeding your rats." Her voice fell into a deathly hush, wavering with excitement and anger and ecstasy at having finally won. "That's what you do to people."

She bent down and closed her hand around something at her feet. Then she straightened herself and smiled, pulling the pin of the pulse grenade and letting it clatter to the floor. The room came alive with electricity, exploding in a crackling dome around her. Securitrons toppled and collapsed with she laughed, retrieving Benny's jacket from her bag and putting it on. She stored the Platinum Chip into her pocket and retrieved her pistol. The weapon seemed to leap in her hand with excitement; the grip was warm and familiar, sending a jolt of confidence through her.

"Expect me, House."

She headed for the terminal at the left side of the suite.

**Warning! Authorised Personnel Only!**

**OPEN CHAMBER?**

**YES_**

An alarm screeched overhead as the wall near the terminal parted. An elevator opened up. There was no time to criticise House's weak security measures, no time to wonder if she would ever take this elevator up again as she stepped inside, no time to wonder if Sunny Smiles really was out there, waiting for her return. No time to wonder if this was the right choice, whether she'd saved the Mojave or doomed it, whether she'd just walked into a death trap, whether she was Brianna O'Reilly or Courier Six, a hero or a monster, a killer or a saviour. She had time for only one last thought before everything went black.

_This is it._

* * *

><p>The chamber was dark and silent. Every footstep echoed off the metal walls as she moved across the walkway, surrounded by buzzing terminals and consoles. Some sort of electronic pod glowed dimly just ahead, powered by every whirring machine around her. With one hand still tight around her gun, she tapped the nearest terminal's ON key.<p>

**Warning! Opening pod may result in contamination! Proceed with caution!**

**OPEN POD?**

**YES_**

The contraption gave a high shriek, turning itself vertical as the doors hissed open.

The form of Mr House was illuminated by the masses of glowing wires and tubes feeding through his body. His head was strapped to the pod's interior, his face skeletal and gaunt, with two milky eyes staring upwards into blackness. Loose threads of transparent skin trailed from his chin to his neck, the rest stretching over thin bones to reveal a network of sickly yellow veins. His limbs were unnaturally angular, his hands twisted into bony claws. She could see this creature's ribs clearly enough to count each one. This was not a man, she knew. This was little more than some sad, shrivelled foetus stretched too far over a hunk of pre-war metal. This was the thing that had sent her through a bombardment, had refused her the chance to avenge her best friend, had promised to murder her companions and force her into a long lifetime of suffering. She knew that he could force any form of torture upon her, but nothing would equal this sad being's existence.

_"Centuries of work... undone... why?"_

"Personality clash," she said flatly, barely able to maintain her composure. Her throat tightened with pity and disgust for this pathetic creature in front of her, this twisted, broken _thing _that had kept itself alive for hundreds of years just to see his vision through. Up above, she had felt almost a grudging respect for Mr House. He had a strong will, if nothing else. His intelligence and resourcefulness might once have seemed remarkable. But with the computers disabled, the illusion shattered, this was only a faint husk of the man who had saved the Mojave from nuclear warheads.

_"To let... personalities... derail the... future of mankind... stupid!"_

"You saved the Mojave from destruction, but it doesn't need you anymore. It needs rebuilding, it needs-"

_"Could have... waited... would have... fixed..."_

"New Vegas needs more than what you can offer it," she argued, praying she was right. "Casinos, hotels, those aren't going to save the world. It needs hope, Mr House. It needs a human face to represent it, to fight for it, to save it. It needs someone who survived it before, someone who survived the Mojave and lived to make it better. It needs someone who gives a damn, and you were never that. All you wanted was your snowglobe. Pre-war trinkets are always pretty when you detach yourself from the pain and grief they're built from, when you forget that their owners, their makers, have all been dead for a long, long time. You're one of those trinkets, House. You're nothing but a shadow from a world that burned and buried itself, that's all you are. That's all you'll ever be."

_"You sad... misguided... whore... I hope there's a hell for you... bleak, unending..."_

"Thank you, Mr House. But there's been a change in management."

Courier Six aimed her gun pulled the trigger.

**-END OF PART TWO-**


	50. Fever Dream

**THE LUCKY 38**

**AUGUST 18**

**02:05**

"This is big, huh? A very big moment!"

Brianna nodded, breathless with excitement as Yes Man wheeled towards her. This was it. Mr House's connection to the mainframe had been severed upon his death, leaving nothing but a new message on her Pip-Boy to announce the tragedy of his passing. Courier Six had become a story to tell, a figure in history, reducing the Mojave's saviour to little more than a footnote in the Great War. He would be remembered well - perhaps even fondly - as the man who had given everything to protect New Vegas. He would be remembered for centuries as the man who might have saved mankind. But his story would end with the beginning of Brianna O'Reilly's. With House's connections severed and his life support destroyed, the Lucky 38 had become a stray puppy searching for a leash, and Courier Six had one made of platinum.

"Here goes! I'll just take that Platinum Chip off your hands, thanks! Wish me luck!"

She took a long step back, watching as Benny's Securitron got to work on House's console. The electronic beeps and buzzes grew higher in pitch and frequency until her heart was skipping fast enough to match the erratic tempo. Her stomach churned, her leg bounced, and for a moment she had to lean back against the wall just to keep herself upright, head swimming in a million things that could go wrong. Then the robot collapsed, falling to the ground in a crash of metal. And his smiling face flashed to life on House's screen.

_"Back to the drawing board!"_

Brianna almost sobbed with delight, fuelled with ecstasy as she moved past the AI's broken body. "You did it!" She cheered. "I- I did it!"

_"You sure did! Your friend Mr. House has quite a set-up here! I can access his data banks and view telemetry on every Securitron on the network! And since your robot army is already upgraded and waiting outside, I can just order them down to the lower level so they can rest up a little until you're ready to use them! I'll transfer all control over to you, of course, so they'll do anything you want! That's neat, huh?"_

"Neat? It's incredible! What happens now?"

_"Well, everyone knows it won't be long until the Legion and the NCR start fighting over the Dam. Now that there's a new force to be reckoned with, they're gonna be pretty mad and might try to kill you! But that's okay! What we need are more people around us who aren't trying to kill you! That way we have more friends on our side who won't be swayed over to join the armies against you. Sounds fun, right?"_

"What kind of people are we talking about?"

_"Well, anybody! But you'll want some powerful people. The Three Families on the Strip would be a great place to start! Then there's the Boomers, the Brotherhood, the Great Khans and anyone else you can think of! Just head over to meet the factions you decide to work with, ask them if they like the sound of an independent Vegas! Not like their decision matters, of course! If they decide they don't like you, we can just eradicate them!"_

"... And what if I said I wanted the White Glove Society eradicated?"

_"Then I'd have to help you out! For a Family on the Strip, it would be easy to just leave them be until the battle's over! Then you can send in some extra Securitrons during all the confusion and wipe them out when they least expect it! It'll be easy, and I'll be the one doing all the work! So after you make contact with some groups, head back here and tell me all about them! I'll remember which ones you like and which ones you don't, so you don't have to worry about a thing!"_

"I've made contact with the Boomers, so that's a start. I'll need to get a message down to them, tell them that House is dead."

_"There's no need for that! The broadcast that was automatically sent out to your Pip-Boy has reached every other working RobCo and Vault-Tec device in the area!"_

"So they know I killed him. That I'm the one in charge now."

She laughed again, bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet. She'd done it. She'd killed House. She would never see that smirk again, never hear his voice surrounding her, threatening to strip her down and throw her out for the pleasure of the crowd that had gathered to support her. She had killed a genius, an immortal, someone who might have saved the world. She'd torn his shining kingdom down with a promise to herself, to everyone outside the walls of the Lucky 38, that she could make something so much bigger than House had ever dreamed of.

"Bring the robots down here and put them on stand-by," she ordered. "Run diagnostics, update statistics, do whatever mainframes do until I'm back here with more information. I want a Securitron patrol out in Freeside too, have them run just like they do on the Strip. I've gotta let those people know that I'm looking out for them, that this is more than just New Vegas."

_"You got it! And don't worry about all the busted Securitrons lying around - I'll make sure the place is spick and span by the time you get back!"_

She hit the button on the elevator.

Paused.

"Did I do the right thing, Yes Man?"

_"Of course you did! In fact, I think your only mistake so far was to seek validation from a robot who's incapable of saying no!"_

* * *

><p>"Courier Six! Courier Six! Courier Six!"<p>

Brianna O'Reilly strode calmly out of the Lucky 38, metal armour tightly secured, lips painted red. They would want to see her, the mystery woman who had passed through Freeside like a hurricane and waltzed right into a casino that hadn't been opened in centuries. They would want to see the women who promised them all a future, something better than anyone else could offer. They would want to see the face of this impossible rebellion, the masthead, the battering ram, the woman with the robot army who promised to smash anyone who tried to chain her down.

When they saw her, they cheered.

Some threw bottles. Some shouted allegiance to other armies. Some moved towards her, shook her hand or patted her on the back and wished her good luck. Others kept their distance, passively watching the commotion. She found that she could pinpoint every face. Vagrants from Freeside had slipped in through the gate to follow her, their skin cracked and yellow, lips bloody and eyes sunken. Some were plump and powdered, lips full and pink, eyes filled with curiosity at what this rebellion meant for them. Some faces were hidden behind white and gold masks, others swollen and bruised. There were men and women in expensive suits and long dresses, others in rags or less than that. There was a woman in brown leather armour with a smile like the sunshine who shouted her name. Not Courier Six, not Fuck Mr House. Her name. Brianna O'Reilly.

"Sunny?"

The name died on her lips. She blinked. And she blinked again but the woman was there, bright and hopeful and shouting her name and that was the only thing Brianna could hear, that clear voice, that nervous laughter, and it was impossible because she was never supposed to hear that voice again and her sunshine was dead it had died so long ago but she was here, she was _here _and-

_"Sunny!"_

She threw her bag aside and ran. The crowd melted away, nothing more than a dull roaring in her ears like someone was holding her head underwater. But she could breathe. God, no air had ever tasted so sweet. She shoved faceless people aside, pushed her way through the ocean, choked back sobs because she refused to cry until she knew this wasn't a dream. She had to be there.

She was.

Brianna's lungs emptied as she drank in the sight of the woman in front of her, not daring to reach out her arms and touch her, terrified that her hands would only grab for empty space, that the woman was only the product of some twisted fever dream, a chem-fuelled hallucination, the empty manifestation of a memory. She was so clear. Her eyes were big and brown and brimming with tears, her skin flushed, her smile radiant.

She leapt into her arms, burying her face deep in the crook of her neck. Every muscle trembled as Sunny wrapped her arms around her. She knew this was impossible. This was a world where people died and they didn't come back to life, where loved ones always said goodbye or never got the chance. This was a war and it was buildings that burned, not hearts, this was no place for love. Right in the middle of a crowd firing bullets into the air and screaming threats at the sky, this was no place for love. This was New Vegas, a city of sex and chems and caps and this had never been a place of comfort, never a place for gentle touches and gazing at the stars and dreaming of a life so much better than this. This was a wasteland and there were no happy endings and this moment would not last.

But it did, for such a long time that Brianna lost count of the precious seconds that Sunny Smiles was in her arms. They kissed in the middle of the crowd, both too drunk on the impossibility of each other to give a damn about the chaos around them. They became the chaos. They were fire together, one a match and the other gasoline, neither daring to let the other go. People stepped back. Noise fell and fell and rose again, no longer cries but sounds of laughter and celebration, or at least to Brianna's ears, her head suddenly full of impossible stories with impossible endings, where people lived to be happy ever after. Where people found lost lovers in places of death and destruction, where fighters emerged victorious from lion's dens, where unlikely heroes slew the dragon and saved the world, where governments were overthrown by reckless women with platinum chips and bullet scars.

"Please be real," she breathed. "Don't go away."

"Never," she promised, the words fluttering against Brianna's ear. "I love you. You're a stupid, impulsive, reckless, gay asshole but, God, I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Even if you're just some sleep-deprived hallucination and you'll be gone when I let go."

"Who said anything about letting go?"


	51. Lucidity

**THE LUCKY 38**

**AUGUST 18**

**02:49**

The dream didn't end when they took the elevator to the presidential suite. Rising higher and higher above the chaos outside should have shaken her back to reality, back to the eerie stillness of the Lucky 38 where she'd murdered the man who'd promised to save the world. The fragile infrastructure of Brianna O'Reilly should have crumbled to dust, so she could build herself up again out of stone and steel. But she was lost in the arms of a dead woman, wandering deeper and deeper into the woods, losing all sense of direction.

This dream was impossibly real. She leaned her head against Sunny's shoulder, nestling further into the mess of cushions and feathers. She could smell perfume and strawberries and skin. She could run her hand across Sunny's arm, feel the light wrinkles of her leather armour, the warmth of her body. She could feel the ceaseless pounding of her heart, hear a conversation around her, detect movement as her friends made a feeble attempt to clean up the mess she'd made of her suite. But Brianna O'Reilly couldn't wake up. She was losing blood, leaving her bones behind, losing herself to the abyss of impossibility.

"How?" She asked, almost surprised to realise she hadn't been rendered voiceless. The other voices died when hers rose. She'd interrupted something she hadn't been paying attention to, but she didn't care. She'd barely noticed Veronica and Christine sitting together on the only remaining table, hadn't spotted Cass retrieving a chair from somewhere else in the suite, hadn't noticed Cheyenne lounging on the end of the bed, her tail wagging lazily. She moved back to look at the woman in her arms, suppressing a burst of giddy laughter. "How are you alive?"

"Hey, it wasn't that hard. They kept me there for a while, in the kitchens. Taunted, threatened, beat me up a little. A couple days, I think. They left all the doors unlocked one night, some kind of passive-aggressive way of telling me to get out. So I did. I had a lot of time to think about what I was gonna do afterwards. Made some elaborate plan to sneak out and kill the ringleader." She smiled ruefully. "I couldn't do it. As soon as the door opened, all I wanted was to find you. Figured you'd probably kill them all for me as revenge. But I found Cass outside the Lucky 38. She wasn't in a good state."

"Passed out drunk on the steps," Cass muttered bitterly. "Wouldn't have got up either, if you hadn't been there."

"I helped her," Sunny elaborated. "Took her to the Followers. They let her rest up, get better, even gave her another box of Fixer."

"Which I declined," Cass added, taking a swig from the bottle at her hip.

"When she woke up, she told me what you did to her, what you said. You thought you'd _eaten _me, God I- and she didn't know where you were. Said you and Veronica just left. I thought you'd gone off to the Fort. Part of me was worried you were gonna do something stupid. Another part was worried that you just moved on, tried to pretend like nothing happened. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if you were going off to help House or to fight against him. While you were gone, I talked to Dr Farkas, got up to speed on what was happening in Freeside while I was stuck in the Ultra Luxe. More casualties, more drunks, more corpses on the streets. She said it was like Freeside was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for you."

"She wants to help," Sunny continued with an earnest grin. "She said it didn't matter whose side you were on as long as you really thought it would be best for everyone. If it really does come down to a battle at the dam, I think her and the Followers will be there if you need them. That is, if you decide on gathering up any humans for your army." Her eyes glittered. "It was incredible, what you did. Killing House, I- I know I said I supported him, but after all he did to you, I'm glad he's gone. What made you change your mind?"

"He was spying on us, using Victor as a way to monitor us. He threatened to kill Cass and Veronica, make me- keep me on the Strip and-" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "He knew about my family, Sunny. He got things wrong, he thought they lived in Reno because that's what I told Mortimer - but he knew my dad's name, knew about my mom. And he said what happened to you was all my fault. When I came back, it was the exact same thing: follow or die. So I chose the third option and put a bullet through his head. God, you should have seen him. He wasn't a person, he was barely alive. He was a monster. The sight of him scared me more than Caesar did." Noticing her confusion, she explained, "I activated the Securitrons at Fortification Hill. Had to butter up the Almighty Caesar and His Vast Glory before I could get the Platinum Chip back."

"Dammit!" Sunny said, slamming a fist down on the mattress. "I should have been there! I should have escaped, I should have been with you! Even if it had to be that way, even if House had to die, I should have at least been by your side. He did all that to you and I was locked up in a freezer. Veronica and Christine, they told me what happened before you left. You thought I was dead and you followed that broadcast into some crazy man's death trap all because I'd given up. All because I didn't know how to get out of there."

Brianna took her hand. "That wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have left in the first place. Leaving Cass the way she was, abandoning everything I was trying to save, that was wrong. But it doesn't matter now, none of it does. We're all here, we're okay, we're- God, I'm still waiting to wake up. I'll tell you everything that happened, I promise. We're not going anywhere until you know every single thing."

"Tomorrow. I want every detail."

"I promise," she said, and meant it. She would relive the Madre, tell her story and let Veronica and Christine tell theirs. She would listen to Cass' bitter account of her own days during Brianna's absence. She would explain the destruction of the presidential suite, tell her everything about the casino, the ghost people, the man she'd come to care for after losing her mind to a toxic casino. She would record every second of the conversation on her Pip-Boy, print it onto a blank holotape to make sure she never forgot a single detail of the Sierra Madre.

In the morning, they would agree that Yes Man was right. The people of the Mojave needed to know who Brianna O'Reilly really was. They needed to see her face, hear her voice, her promises. She could inspire hope in them, perhaps, let them know that she was worth fighting for. They would agree that their next stop was Hidden Valley, to the Brotherhood of Steel. Veronica would explain how fear and worry kept her awake at night, that she was terrified for her family's future, that she had to do anything, anything she could to convince the Elder that it was time for change. She would retell her experience of the Sierra Madre a hundred times over if she had to. She would save them, if she could.

Or, like the rest of her friends, brace herself for that slow or sudden end.


	52. I Could Make You Care

**THE LUCKY 38**

**AUGUST 18**

**10:35**

_"Crawl out through the fallout, baby_

_When they drop that bomb!_

_Crawl out through the fallout_

_With the greatest of aplomb!"_

Her laughter was like poetry when they danced. They twirled and laughed with eyes as bright as the Mojave, with lips red and swollen from sleep. Roses bloomed in the valleys of Sunny's cheeks and her smile was like sunlight and they both were barely dressed, all tousled hair and stumbling motions.

_"When your white count's getting higher_

_Hurry, don't delay_

_I'll hold you close and kiss those_

_Radiation burns away!"_

God, this woman was enough to make her choke out metaphors instead of curses. The morning had left her shaken, guilty, grieving, but sunshine didn't go away. Sunny Smiles burned on furiously, holding Brianna's hands like the courier was a fleeting cloud, like her flesh would soon turn to vapour and disappear from her sight, impossible to reach, impossible to hold.

_"Crawl out through the fallout, baby_

_To my loving arms_

_Through the rain of Strontium 90!"_

They found comfort in each other, singing with joy at having found each other again, singing though they wanted to scream. Brianna could scream forever. She'd seen enough, suffered enough, knew rage that sent shockwaves through her bones. She had learned to use her mouth as a shotgun, and she could scream bullets into the air for the rest of her life. Terror had its vice-like grip around both their hearts. Indecision was clawing its way up Brianna's throat and spilling out from her mouth in the form of a million different ways she could compare her lover to the sun.

_"Think about your hero_

_When you're at Ground Zero_

_And crawl out through the fallout b__ack to me!"_

But still they sang and still they spun, because in this hazy morning of bitter truths and coffee cups and half-finished thoughts barely strung together, they found some joy to cling to. They found each other, and that was enough. Because the sky was shining brilliantly through the windows and Veronica had fixed up the broken radio and Mr House was dead and finally, _finally, _they had a chance. When Sunny asked if they would be alright, Brianna couldn't find it in her to agree. But she melted into Sunny's arms nonetheless, and hoped that even if they lost this war, these memories would remain.

_"If you cannot find the way_

_Just listen for my song_

_I'll love you all your life_

_Although that may not be too long!"_

* * *

><p>Hidden Valley was located a short ways outside the Powder Gangers' camp, just a few miles east of Goodsprings. The group took an hour of the morning to organise their things at the Lucky 38, restocking their ammo at Mick and Ralph's and picking up some food and water from the surrounding stalls. Sunny and Cass planned on branching off to Goodsprings to spread news of the events in New Vegas. As much as Brianna was reluctant to part ways with Sunny already - reluctant enough to pin Veronica against a wall and threaten to shove a barrel cactus into one of her more intimate areas - she understood the necessity of sending her away. Though the sun was burning fiercely above them, the Mojave Wasteland was still in the dark.<p>

"How exactly is this hidden?" Brianna asked. The hill was high enough to allow her a clear view of Hidden Valley, but she could see little more than a large stretch of desert separated from the surrounding area by a collapsing chain link fence. A distant slope of rising sand indicated the entrance to a bunker. The place was hard to differentiate from any other forgotten patch of sand in the desert, but the bunker would only be hard to spot if you didn't know what you were looking for.

"The DERVISH camouflage system provides visual and electronic interference to prevent airborne or long-range enemy weapons from targeting the bunker," Veronica droned. "The surrounding soil has been supplemented with a combination of aluminium and various silicates, which are then dispersed using a widespread network of industrial fans to blanket the area in a cloud of what is essentially chaff."

"Combined with the electronic countermeasures of the nearby array at Black Mountain," Christine finished, "the bunker at Hidden Valley is effectively impossible to target."

"Looks like you people really are robots after all."

"We're scribes," Veronica explained. "This stuff is drilled into us from the second we're out of the womb. The moment you learn to say 'mama' is the moment you're dragged off screaming by Head Scribe Taggart. We know everything they keep on those terminals, right down to the letter. Basically, this place is completely hidden by a synthetic windstorm at night, almost impossible to see anything but the bark scorpions coming at you."

On that note, she crushed one of the approaching scorpions into the ground with her metal fist.

They reached the bunker after a few more minutes. The face of the slope was scribbled over with graffiti, displaying phrases such as **YES TO PEACE! **and **NO TO THE BOMB! **It was surprisingly easy to access, the entrance opening just as any other vault door would. Brianna had expected some sort of high-tech defence system, a locked terminal, even just some kind of key, but it opened into a dark hallway with only a turn of the handle, leading down to a long set of metal stairs. Veronica led the way as they moved down into a dim warehouse. The place was cluttered with fallen rubble, with no further access to the bunker aside from another heavy door. This time, it had a locked terminal and an intercom.

"I'd like a large Atomic Shake and a double brahmin burger," Veronica said into the intercom. "And easy on the agave sauce this time."

_"What? __Veronica, what the hell? Who's that with you?"_

"It's fine, they're not hungry. Just make it three Atomic Shakes and open the goddamn door."

_"Veronica-"_

"I know where you live, Ramos. Open up."

_"Oh, for God's sake, fine. Opening up."_

The door swung open.

_"Welcome back, Veronica."_

After stepping through the next empty room and descending another flight of stairs, Brianna came face-to-face with the man from the speaker. Dark skin, a shaggy beard, thick black eyebrows. He was pointing a gun at her face, but didn't seem overly concerned about pulling the trigger. "Listen up," Ramos said, "I'm in charge of security here and I can't say I'm too happy about having outsiders waltzing around. But since you came in with Veronica, I'll cut you a little slack. Just behave yourselves and we won't have any problems, okay?"

He directed his attention to Christine before Brianna could respond. His brows furrowed as he searched the woman's face. It was clear that he was trying to look beyond the scars, see the woman who was underneath, someone he might recognize. Christine had picked up some armour from Freeside, light black leather with a belt of ammo strapped around it. One sleeve had been cut away to reveal the fresh bandage on her arm.

_It happened in a ringing blast and a flash of light. She was pressed against the floor, ducking beneath the torrent of flame. The air was on fire and Christine's arm was red and blistering, skin peeling off the bone in blackened strips and Veronica was gasping for breath and she remembered the shadow creature crawling down the steps with its fingers snapped, scuttling towards them, the air was on fire, her lungs were on fire, she-_

"You're not Brotherhood, are you?"

"I'm a knight of The Circle," she replied evenly. "Knight Royce."

"You the one who was looking for Elijah?"

"Yes."

"Did you find him?"

"Yes."

"Then the Elder will want to see you."

The bunker was gigantic. Tunnels snaked off in every direction, a colossal network right beneath the Mojave soil. This vault was more spacious than any Vault-Tec hole Brianna had explored, and promised to be even larger. Open doors led into wide classrooms with pre-war blackboards and a terminal at every table, others to vast rooms filled with technology, like a Silver Rush was open for business every few doors. There were doctor's offices and sleeping areas, bathrooms and kitchens, long boardrooms for meetings and gatherings. The Brotherhood themselves were effortlessly intimidating as they walked by. Knights strode past in heavy power armour while scribes opted for red leather tunics or roughspun brown robes. They found a turret locked on their position with every corner they turned. Brianna felt like the bunker was lining up its sights, just waiting for the chance to eliminate its target.

Her companions knew the bunker like they knew how to put together a plasma rifle. Veronica stopped by every door to say hello, greeting every member with a private joke or an amusing comment. She waved eagerly to those passing by, some barely glancing in her direction. Although many stopped to talk to her and Christine, few dared to meet Brianna's eyes. She became painfully aware of the hostility towards her, suddenly understanding that, to these people, she didn't have an identity. She was Outsider, and she could not be trusted.

"Hey, Lorenzo! Woah, nice differential pressure controller!"

"Lookin' good, Stanton! Didn't think that swelling would go down for a while."

"I know you're stealing my haircut, Torres. The jig is up as soon as I pull this hood down."

"Oh, hi, Melissa! That orange make-up is really going well for you - I almost can't see the lazy eye! Actually - no, wait, Melissa - hey, Melissa, I'm over here, not halfway across the bunker."

Veronica and Christine led the way into the Elder's office. Brianna had seen smaller missile silos in her lifetime. Nothing from any REPCONN facility could match the towering walls decorated with Brotherhood flags, their emblem emblazoned in bright yellow over grey cloth. Paladins guarded every door, plasma flowing through their weapons as they observed the newcomers warily. They were so like the Brotherhood she had known in DC, but at the same time they couldn't be more different. Though their armour was identical and their flag just the same, the Washington outpost had always kept a sense of nobility about them, always had a presence that demanded the grudging respect of everyone around them, from Rivet City scientists, to snooty Commonwealth socialites, to lowly wasteland traders. But the Brotherhood she saw here reminded her more of sewage rats than nightstalkers.

Elder McNamara was younger than Brianna had expected. His long blue robe sent a lurch of recognition through Brianna's gut. It was identical to Elijah's, all the way down to the high rounded collar and large metal belt. His skin was a warm brown, a startling contrast to his shock of white hair. His eyes were dark and serious, his expression more so when he recognized Christine and rose to feet.

"Christine, is that you? God, I- we didn't expect to see you return. It's been a long time. What brings you back to the Mojave chapter? How goes your mission?"

Christine's hands clenched into fists. "You know that Elijah left a trail of crimes across the Mojave," she began in a careful, rehearsed voice. The Elder's confusion was apparent when he realized that the voice did not belong to the knight he knew. "What we didn't know was why. I tracked Elijah to Big Mountain, a research site that we'd previously thought lost to the war."

"Big Mountain," he repeated. "It's still functional? How much is still intact? How did you get there?"

"I don't know how to get back, McNamara. Even if I did, there's nothing for us there. What Elijah did was monstrous. I tracked him to a camp of flayed ghouls wearing bomb collars, some kind of twisted experiment of Elijah's. He captured me, opened up my head. He tortured me until he found whatever he was looking for. I can't read anymore, I can't write. Even if I remembered where the tra- where the entrance was, I would never be able to find my way there. I thought I wasn't getting out of that place."

"And after that? I need to know every detail."

"I found the Sierra Madre," she replied. "But not before Elijah did."

At the end of her story, McNamara's eyes were dark, his jaw set, his muscles taut. "What could have driven him to that?" He wondered, more to himself than anyone else. "To try and release a toxin like that across the Mojave, go to all those lengths. I knew the man was dangerous, maybe even insane, but I never imagined him capable of that. You've done good work, Christine. It's time you were heading back to The Circle."

"She's staying with me, McNamara."

"Veronica, you know th-"

"She's staying with me because we've discovered something amazing, something that could change things for us."

"Tell me this isn't about-"

"Yes, goddammit, it is! But you're gonna hear me out this time. This is more than anything we've discussed before, Nolan. This is more than just other groups succeeding where we've failed, more than just this gun-" she produced the pulse gun from the pocket of her robe and slammed it on his desk "-that has the power to fry a knight in his power armour with only one hit, destroying us entirely in battle if an enemy finds out about it. And they will, by the way, because the Gun Runners are selling them in bulk. This is more than just the fact that e_veryone _in the wasteland is our enemy, more than just the fact that no one out there has ever even seen a Brotherhood knight since we went into hiding, that no one even knows we exist anymore! This is more than even that."

"We've outlasted the end of the world, Veronica."

"And that's your only plan, huh? Just wait in this glorified hole for everyone else to die so we can outlast the next war, and the one after that and the one after that, so we can watch our enemies conquer the Mojave! Your plan is to wait here until the NCR discover us - and they will. And then what? What do you plan on doing when they storm in here with guns and explosives?" She gulped down a breath and lowered her voice. "Please. Please, just listen to me, just hear me out for one second, just one time. Please."

"Fine. Say what you must. If nothing else, I need a reason for this outsider's presence."

"This outsider is the courier who got shot in the head outside of Goodsprings," Veronica snapped. "Not like you'd know."

Brianna waited for the dawn of understanding, but the Elder didn't seem to understand what this implied. "I got shot in the head by a New Vegas Chairman on the ninth of July, because of a package I was bringing to Mr House. I killed the guy who shot me and found out that he was almost ready to overthrow Mr House by killing him in his casino and planting a new A.I into the Lucky 38 mainframe. He upgraded a Securitron to allow him the same control as House had in his suite, one that would obey every command he gave it. But I killed him before he could go through with the plan. I killed Mr House and gained access to his Securitrons, an army of them, at Fortification Hill. I upgraded them to withstand an onslaught of Legion, NCR, Boomers, Brotherhood, anyone who tries to stand in my way. They're outside the Strip right now, awaiting my command."

A harsh bark of laughter escaped from McNamara's lips. "Is this a joke? Is this how desperate you are, Veronica, that you'd go to such lengths to spite me, to humiliate me, to turn me against the Codex? You'd bring an outsider in here with some ridiculous story about killing Mr House-"

"Don't believe me? Check your terminals - the news has been uploaded onto every one of them. Everyone in the Strip knows that I'm in charge. Everyone in Freeside knows. By the end of today, everyone in Goodsprings, Primm and Novac will know too. Even the NCR and Legion are waiting for my next move. And that all depends on you, Elder. We need humans fighting this fight just as much as we need robots. Even if you sent out ten, twelve paladins, it would let the people out there know that you're alive, that you're fighting. Do that, and it could change _everything_ for you. By the end of Hoover Dam, you'll have no organised opposition. You'll be able to come out again, to patrol the streets, watch over Vegas. This is your only chance. I want to help you. The enemies of my enemies are my friends."

He couldn't even look at her. "What does the Codex say, Veronica?"

"A bunch of closed-minded bullshit. This is a dead end for us!" Veronica's voice rebounded off the metal walls, but it carried a tremor of fear. "This is happening, Nolan. The world out there is changing, I've seen it myself! The Legion and the NCR are going to be gone if we can pull this off, and so far, we have. There are people rooting for us, and not because we have a giant army or a hundred outposts across America or big, fancy suits of power armour. It's because they can _see _us. Because they can see us and hear us and understand that we are just like them, and we're fighting. Things are changing, and we have to change with the world. Otherwise, we aren't going to last."

"I see no evidence of that. We're doing perfectly fine down here on our own, and if you think that some stranger from the wasteland is going to be the solution to our problems, you are badly mistaken, Veronica. There is no way-"

"Then you're going to die!" Brianna yelled. "This is your only option!" I know I'm an outsider, and I know I can't possibly understand your Codex, understand every detail of what you're doing down here, why you hide, but that doesn't matter. Because _I_ am the one who's leading an army. You're overseeing a dying faction while I am risking my life every goddamn day to fight a war I never had any part in, all because I want to fix the problems I never caused. If a group of five wastelanders can do that on their own, then you can get your head out of your ass for five minutes to think this through."

"We simply can't risk-"

"Then you - will - die! That's the only possible outcome for you! Things are already in motion, things are already changing. You have time to catch up now, but not tomorrow. You have time to adapt now or never. Because the world isn't going to slow down for you. The war isn't going to wait for you to wake up and find that the solution to your problems is right in front of your eyes! We came here to give you two options: you can live in my new world or die in your old one."

The silence was hollow and cold.

"We've lasted this long. We will last throughout this war."

"We'll die out," Veronica croaked, one final, hopeless plea. When the Elder didn't respond, she took Christine's hand and turned, moving for the exit and leaving the Elder behind. Brianna fuelled her gaze with all the icy hatred she could muster for this foolish, dying man without a chance. As she walked down the steps, she could have sworn the Elder had told them one more thing, just as the door shut behind them.

She could have sworn he'd said "I know."

* * *

><p>"I'd punch him in the face but he stood at my parent's wedding," Veronica grumbled, as they made there way out of Hidden Valley. Her grip was tight on Christine's hand and she was visibly exhausted, paler than usual though her cheeks were flushed with anger. "He'd always make excuses for me when I fell asleep in Taggart's lessons, get me out of punishment. I thought he would listen. I thought he would do something. But it was like talking to a stranger."<p>

"They haven't changed a bit," Christine remarked, her expression sour. "Elijah's dead and nothing changed. House is dead and nothing changed. They don't want to hear it. If there was ever a time when I questioned the Brotherhood's direction, this just confirms all of my doubts. They didn't listen to you back then and they won't listen to you now. I love the Brotherhood just as much as you do, V, but I'm keeping my distance, staying in Vegas. I can't let Elijah happen all over again. The Brotherhood are my life, always have been. But that just isn't good enough. Not anymore."

Veronica leaned back against the wire fence, shutting her eyes. When they opened, they were glistening with tears. "He wouldn't listen. The truth was right there, staring him in the face. How could he not listen?" She sighed. "His mind was made up from the start. I went out before, brought him back all the evidence I could find of how other societies were doing so much better than us. I thought getting to see the world for real would change things. I thought I could finally change his mind. But now I know that nothing will. There was never any chance."

"Where does this leave you, then?" Christine asked. "You've been fighting against them for years, Veronica. I know, I had to deal with the fallout every single time. I don't want that for you, not for the rest of your life. They won't change their minds. And if the wrong people hear about this - Richards, Coldwell, Beckett - they might do something drastic. They'll cause trouble, send you away again."

"I think you're right." Veronica's voice was small, barely audible, but there was a ring of finality to it. "I don't think I can stay. Maybe it'd be better for everyone if I left. Spent my life somewhere else. It's not like I have nothing. I've got you. Brianna, Sunny, Cass. Everything that's going on in Vegas, there's no way I'm missing out on that. After, well," she shrugged. "Maybe I could work with the Followers or something, put some of my knowledge to good use. Or, you know, I could stay. Stay with them until the end. Even if this stupid plan of ours actually works out, the NCR could discover Hidden Valley tomorrow, or next week, or in an hour's time. I don't know how long I'm gonna have with them. They may be a bunch of stubborn conformists, but anything I did without them would feel empty."

Christine reached out for Veronica's hand. She didn't even seem to notice it.

"Do you ever get the feeling that you're making a huge mistake?" She asked, looking to Brianna.

"All the time," she said. "Look, Veronica, I can't tell you what to do, where to go. That's your choice. All I know is that I don't want you to end up like them. Lying dead in a mass grave underneath the ground with no one but us left to feel a goddamn thing about it - you deserve better than that. You've seen Elijah, you know what happens when the Brotherhood let things go too far. There's nothing for you there. I know they're your family, but family shouldn't be a death sentence."

"You know, I- I think you're right. Not like hanging out with you isn't a death sentence or anything, but I get it. There's nothing I can do for them. If I stayed, I think I'd just end up making more trouble. I can't help it sometimes. I think I could go with the Followers, after all this is done. They're just like the Brotherhood, right? Only minus the laser weapons, add a little more compassion for other human beings. And it's always been a dream of mine to clean up Freeside. Though I always imagined that the Brotherhood would be there helping me."

"Are you sure about this?" Christine asked. "You don't h-"

"There she is!"

Brianna's arms were wrenched behind her back. She struggled uselessly as the paladin's grip tightened around her wrists, breaking skin.

"Richards? What the hell are you doing?!" Veronica demanded as four other knights wearing power armour closed in around them.

"This is the outsider," barked the man behind her. "She's been whispering poison into the Elder's ear, trying to turn him against the Codex. We never thought you'd do anything this drastic, Veronica. But you dare bring an outsider into our home, send her in like some lowly courier to spread your lies? Enough. This has to end now." The paladin tossed Brianna to aside with enough force to bring her to the ground. Blood stained her vision; she heard a sickening crunch as a steel boot connected with her twisted ankle. She heard two words, just faintly above the ringing in her ears.

"Execute them."


	53. Lost Causes

**THE LUCKY 38**

**AUGUST 18**

**14:09**

_Her rage was visible in every tensed muscle, every quick flicker of emotion in her eyes as they locked on target._

When Brianna looked up, she was back in the police station. She was facing a cold, broken girl who had abandoned everything she'd ever known, everything she'd ever loved, and left herself with nothing but hate and rage to fuel her. When Veronica Santangelo reached for her pulse gun, Brianna knew there was no going back.

She climbed to her feet, reaching for her axe and swinging in blind anger. The blade sliced through metal with a shriek of friction, but left only the slightest dent in the paladin's power armour. It didn't matter. While Veronica loaded her weapon, Brianna O'Reilly was a distraction. And her aggressor was certainly distracted, knocking her off her feet with a powerful uppercut. She didn't stay down for long. While Christine fought back the others, Brianna came at the paladin in front of her with all the strength she had, hacking mercilessly with her axe. Plasma flowed towards her in a hazy wave, sticking to her chest and burning through her armour.

With a yelp of distress she hacked at him again, burying her blade in his neck. The metal between his shoulder and neck was strong, but less sturdy than the surrounding plates. She'd found a chink in his armour. If she could manage another few hits, she could send him to the ground. She forced the heavier man back with the handle of her axe, swinging once more for the neck. And once more, and once more, before he punched another jet of plasma into her gut. She stumbled back, glimpsing Christine as she wrenched another paladin's weapon from his grip and swung it over the head of the other behind her. Brianna lunged, feinting to one side before slashing again for the weak spot. Steel met flesh and the paladin's legs buckled.

She stepped over the body and wrenched the axe out. She turned on her heels to face the nearest attacker, but before she could take her first swing, the paladin jerked violently. Lightning crackled across his armour as his legs kicked out in a wild dance. His whole body trembled; it took only a moment for his legs to give in and send him crashing down. The others collapsed in a similar fashion, jerking and twisting grotesquely with every pull of the pulse gun's trigger. Within a few seconds, they were done. It was over. Veronica tossed the weapon to the ground, letting it land in the centre of the fried heap of corpses. It was an unspoken threat, a promise of what was coming for them. A hopeless gesture, yet it mattered all the same. Journeyman Scribe Santangelo was finished. There was no turning back for her now.

"God," she breathed, staring down at the bodies with blank surprise. "This is what I'll have to get used to, isn't it? When people get desperate, they turn on each other. First thing to go is trust. I don't think it's ever gonna be the same for me in there. No matter what I do, it's going to end badly. God. _God. _How am I supposed to stay in there knowing what's to come?"

"So you're leaving?" Christine asked. "Is this it?"

"They haven't left me any choice. It's this or a lifetime of scavenging and watching my friends die in losing battles, wondering if the person who slits my throat in the middle of the night is gonna be NCR or Brotherhood. This way is better for me and for them. I just wish they would've let me make up my own mind first. But that was a clear warning. I don't think McNamara sent them, but if he suspected Richards was planning anything, he would have turned a blind eye. Just like all the others."

"I'll stay with you," Christine promised. "Better that The Circle think Christine Royce is dead. They don't care what happened to Elijah as long as they never hear from him again. They'll think I chased him out of the Mojave or died along with him. They don't need me."

"Not like I do," Veronica whispered, wrapping her arms around her. When their lips pressed together, Brianna almost smiled.

Maybe this could last.

* * *

><p>Veronica left for the bunker and returned with her bag full. She'd gone back to retrieve old things from her room, she said, some scrap electronics and spare gadgets, posters from old bands she liked, a few of her favourite books. The Elder hadn't said much, only that things were better this way, and that it was best for her to leave as soon as possible. "That was the sweetest thing, I guess. Not having to say goodbye."<p>

She'd been keeping a strange type of photo with her - a long strip of paper with four different images of her and Christine. It was from a photo booth, she explained as they walked, an old pre-war attraction that people used at carnivals and amusement parks. Veronica didn't look much different; it was Christine who had changed. She'd never quite been beautiful, even before the scars. Her jawline was sharp, her eyes bright and sly, her nose long and crooked from too many breakages. Her brows were angled in a way that made her look eternally threatening and her hair had been a wild tangle of red, shaved at one side. But it was the way she looked at Veronica, the way her cold eyes lit up and her thin, pale lips stretch into a warm smile. That was what had made her beautiful. It still did, even now.

"So what next?" Veronica asked, when Hidden Valley was far behind them. "I've always wanted to see Goodsprings. Wanted to see where it all started."

"Actually, that sounds like a good idea," Brianna replied. There was something she needed to bury.

* * *

><p>Goodsprings hadn't changed a bit.<p>

It was strange walking into the town with Veronica and Christine to see that nothing was different. The villagers wore the same surly expressions, hard at work on their tiny patches of land. Some looked up, surprised to see her, while others didn't spare a second glance. There were faces she remembered from the Powder Ganger fight and others she had never seen before. It warmed her heart in some tiny way to know that the town was growing. She supposed she'd started to care for the place after all she and Sunny had risked to save it.

They waited at the saloon for Sunny and Cass to return. The bar was quiet, just a few locals heading in and out to get a break from the burning August sun. Trudy looked the same as she always had - it startled Brianna again and again to realise that it had only been a month since she'd been shot. Her eyes darted from Brianna, to her companions, to the door, as if she was waiting for an army to march in at any minute.

Five minutes passed without a single goddamn hello.

"Can I get a drink over here?" Brianna snapped, waving impatiently towards the bar. The barmaid went white, her lips disappearing into a thin line as she moved towards them. She could only imagine what they must have looked like among the gaggle of drinking farmers and traders. A Brotherhood scribe with a pneumatic gauntlet, a brutally scarred and scowling woman in black armour, and the courier who had just taken over New Vegas. Trudy eyed them warily for a moment, staring Brianna down before finally inclining to respond.

"Nice to see you're still alive."

"You don't look so sure about that."

She sniffed. "This place has been peaceful since you helped us with the Powder Gangers. Don't know much about the situation out in Vegas, but you're doing a good job. NCR's the reason this town can't grow - too many taxes, not enough help against convicts. And if the Legion was down here we'd all be packed off to those prisons. Anyway, Sunny dropped by a while ago, had to call a town meeting. Glad to see Cheyenne was with her too."

"See? I'm more responsible than I look."

"You must be taking good care of that girl if what happened in Vegas wasn't enough to scare her back."

"She doesn't need me looking after her, trust me. What we have is a vastly different arrangement."

Trudy either missed the hint or ignored it entirely. "Three beers?"

"I'll have a Nuka Cola with a shot of tequila," Veronica corrected. "It's been a long day."

Sunny and Cass arrived after an hour of storytelling between Brianna and the Brotherhood exiles. When she stepped out of the booth to take Sunny in her arms, Trudy's eyes narrowed with suspicion. When Sunny stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss her, the barmaid's mouth dropped so suddenly that she almost dislocated her jaw.

"How'd it go?"

"Okay," Sunny replied breathlessly, cheeks flaming. "Primm's battening down the hatches, getting ready for war. The NCR packed up a while ago and left Meyers in charge, so I got him to call a town meeting. People were saying things would improve if they could get some trade going between Freeside and Primm. They need weapons and armour if they want to defend themselves against a raid, which is likely to happen considering it's still NCR territory. Every single person we met knows in their gut that there's a war coming soon. It's almost scary. But, uh, Novac's not supporting you. They're all sticking with the NCR, except for one. Some old woman called Daisy literally ran out of town when she heard that the Boomers were opening up to outsiders."

"They are?"

"That's what the radio said. They're taking in pilots, doctors, engineers, things like that. Looks like you inspired them."

"Looks like I did."

"So what's the plan?" Cass asked. "Feelin' like I should be doin' a little more than preaching to a bunch of dead-end towns."

"You will," Brianna promised. "We can spend the night in Primm, head back to Vegas in the morning."

"What for?"

"You can ask Veronica all about it. She made a tough decision."

* * *

><p>They paid a visit to Doc Mitchell's before sundown, planning to head down to Primm later to find a place to stay. The old man nearly had a heart attack when he saw the ragtag group of wastelanders standing on his porch, all holding bottles of beer. When he saw Brianna's face, he laughed and shook his head, inviting them all inside for something to eat. They had some catching up to do, the doctor said. He wasn't wrong about that.<p>

They spent a few hours with the kindly old doctor to answer every question he'd been 'wranglin' since them reports on the radio started'. He wanted to know about the situation in Vegas, how Brianna's injury was healing - very well, he assured her - and how Sunny was faring out in the wasteland. Her awkward announcement of "Doc, me and Brianna, we're- we're kind of together now, so-" made the doctor choke on his scotch. The old man looked happy, Brianna decided, comforted by the thought that he trusted her with not only the fate of the Mojave, but with the smiley girl from Goodsprings he'd once cared for like a daughter.

Their next stop was Graveyard Hill.

"What exactly are we doing here?" Christine asked as they headed up the slope. "And why did you bring a shovel?"

"I'm paying a visit to my grave," Brianna replied. "You didn't have to come."

"I want to know who you are. The Courier Ulysses always talked about - big, bad Courier with a capital C. I wanted to find you, actually. Not as much as I wanted to find Elijah, I mean you weren't exactly a priority," she added with a smirk. "But something about you scared him. And a man like Ulysses doesn't get scared. This hill is a tiny little gateway into Courier Six's life. Wouldn't pass up the opportunity."

"You're hanging around so you can figure me out, then?"

"Actually I'm hanging around for Veronica," she said, rolling her eyes. "And for the Mojave."

"But changing the world is second on your to-do list," Veronica reminded her, waggling her eyebrows.

"Jesus, do none of you people like dick?" Cass scoffed. "Not even a tiny bit? Feelin' a little out of place here."

"If it helps," Sunny replied, "I'm not a huge fan of the other thing either."

Cass slung her arm around the shorter woman with a laugh. "You're not too bad, sunshine."

"Hey," Veronica said, "I think Brianna's having a moment."

She was. But this was different from the first time she'd been here. When she'd looked down at her own grave, head pounding and legs trembling after forcing her way up the sandy hill, she'd felt herself beginning to crumble. It had been so easy to picture herself buried there, waiting for the pain to end, waiting for the last drop of her blood to seep into the soil and nourish the barren desert. Back in July, she had wondered how the Mojave would have changed if Brianna O'Reilly never made it to New Vegas.

It wouldn't have. Her parents would still trade scraps in Arefu, blissfully unaware that their only daughter was buried six feet under Mojave soil, her grave marked only by a few drops of blood. New Vegas would remain New Vegas and no one would miss the hooker with intense dark eyes and a nervous twitch in her right hand. Zion would forget about the woman who'd saved them such a long time ago. There would be no mournful broadcast on the radio to alert them of her passing. If Heaven was real, and if Heaven would take her, maybe Grace Arlyn would introduce her friends to the poor dead Regulator who had come too late.

Things had changed since then, Brianna most of all. So she dumped her bag on the ground and felt around its contents for that familiar scratching fabric. Benny's jacket was buried at the bottom of her supplies, wrinkled and creased but still much the same. The man hadn't crossed her mind since she'd returned from the Sierra Madre, but Benny wasn't all she was burying. When she tossed the chequered jacket into her grave, she was burying everything she'd been before that bullet had met her skull. She was burying Brianna the hooker, Brianna the scavenger, Brianna the interrogator. She was burying cold, vindictive, angry Brianna who chopped off fingers for fun.

She would hold onto some things. Like Brianna the Project Purity rebel. Brianna the Regulator. Brianna the courier. She would always love the chaos of the wasteland, find joy in killing people who deserved to die, but she would never let herself become a mercenary again. She would never let herself become a causeless rebel again, fighting back against every force in the world but so eager to let herself be told exactly where to go and what to do. She buried the phrase _"This is the fucking wasteland" _and she buried the phrase _"You just have to accept it and move on"._

She threw in the lighter and became someone who would set fire to the world if it came down to it, because there were far worse things than burning.

She threw in the pistol and the bullet casing and knew that life wasn't about who you would kill for. It was about who you would die for.

She picked up her shovel, took a swig from her beer, and began to bury the past.

* * *

><p>"I would do anything for you."<p>

Her world was a tangle of sheets. It was hands gliding across every inch of her body. It was lips that followed quickly after. It was soft gasps and breathless laughter as Brianna drank down the galaxies that swirled behind Sunny's eyes, traced names across the constellations that freckled her skin.

This was as beautiful as it was strange. _Asexual _was not a word she understood. She was promiscuous and greedy and adventurous by nature; she couldn't fathom ever thinking _sex _and responding with a shrug of her shoulders, but this was Sunny Smiles. If kisses - even hungry, longing, desperate kisses - were all she would allow, Brianna would take that with a "thank you" and a "you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen".

"I think you might be someone I'd die for."

She hadn't died for the last woman she'd loved like this. She'd killed for her, killed for her time and time and time again, but to sacrifice herself for Grace Arlyn seemed unthinkable, unfathomable. But this was different. She was different. They'd met only a month ago, knew so little about each other, were as different as the sun and the moon in the most beautiful ways. Without the moon, the earth would spiral into chaos. Overpowering waves dominating the ocean, volcanoes gushing liquid fire at unpredictable rates, devastating earthquakes rumbling out their protest. But to lose the sun was to lose the world. Losing the sunshine meant imminent darkness, meant a quiet death, meant no chance of survival.

"What are you thinking?" She asked, burying her face in Sunny's neck. "What are you feeling? God, just tell me everything about yourself. Who are you?"

"I'm the smiley girl from Goodsprings," she laughed. "What more do you want?"

"What were you before that?"

"You already know."

"Before that, then. Who were you?"

"A scavenging trader with hippie parents. We made chems out of natural materials in the wasteland. My mom grew the weirdest plants you've ever seen. We smoked them and sold them and had the time of our lives. We walked the roads with a brahmin called Ellie and a creaky shopping cart full of plants. We grew them in tin cans, rubber boots, beer bottles, everywhere soil would fit. It was good. I was safe with my parents, happy. About as sheltered as the wasteland allows you to be."

"That stuff sounds like the weed to end all wars."

"Burn some of it around Hoover Dam and it'll be the shortest battle you've ever seen."

"As short as you?"

She was turned around and pinned against the bed. "Don't make me finish you off before you even reach the Dam."

"Think you could take me on?"

Sunny reached for a pillow and thwacked it against Brianna's head with a _thwump _of feathers. "I could fight you one-handed."

"You don't really get a choice."

"I'm pinning you down, remember?" She threatened. "Be nice."

"Or what?"

She pressed her lips against Brianna's, catching her momentarily off-guard. "Or I'll beat you to death with a pillow, Brianna O'Reilly."

"What a pathetic way to go."

"If you want to go out with a bang I could stuff the pillow full of dynamite."

"After Goodsprings, I'm never giving you dynamite again."

She sighed and _flumped_ down next to her. "I used to love mythology. Traded scraps for pre-war books all the time. You know what I'm feeling right now?"

"Tell me."

Sunny grinned. "I feel like I could eat the world raw."

* * *

><p>They made it to Freeside by midday - just barely. The roads were crawling with raiders from Primm to the sharecropper farms, packs of them roaming across the desert waving machetes and spiked bats. They encountered a group of over fifteen hollow-eyed men and women with brightly coloured hair and tight leather armour. Some groups bared viciously slashed arms and legs, every visible patch of skin brutally scarred by some kind of blade. Self-inflicted. Others brought children with them, tiny and cowering and doomed to be slaughtered. She'd heard rumours of kids being killed for meat, though most were sold to the Legion for caps and supplies. Their keepers travelled with decapitated teddy bears speared on long sticks, some kind of shared inside joke. There were the obvious chemheads, identified by the bruises on their arms and their wide, vacant eyes. The fiends carried plasma weapons and decorated themselves with colourful make-up and paint. Women with trembling hands and swollen lips walked the roads in stiletto heels, wearing leather vests with plunging necklines and tiny black shorts to fully advertise their wares. Some passed them by without a word. Others caused a little more trouble.<p>

In the end, they made it to the Old Mormon Fort with a few bruises and scrapes. The raiders were in worse shape.

"Well, this is it," Veronica said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm not entirely sure what 'it' is yet, but I think it's something good. It's a new start."

Christine took her hand, a warm smile lighting up her face. "You ready?"

"Yeah." She said the word as if she could barely believe it was true. "Yeah, I am."

Together, the exiles pushed open the creaking wooden doors and stepped into the Followers camp.

"Oh my God," Veronica croaked. "Oh- oh no. Oh no."

Brianna's lungs deflated. Her mouth fell open. She grasped for words. For something. Anything.

_No._

For a second, for just a split second, everything was fine. She hadn't noticed the Brotherhood paladins marching towards them. She hadn't noticed the unusual hush about the place, broken only by the unwelcome creak of the door. She hadn't seen the ash scattered across the dirt, hadn't seen the overturned tables and the collapsing tents. She hadn't seen the bodies, but they were everywhere. Doctors lay crumpled on the ground, flesh red and seared. Their labcoats were splattered with crimson, so unnaturally bright against the crumpled white fabric.

None of them had survived.

"Passing on Brotherhood secrets to an outsider organisation," the head paladin scolded. "the highest form of treason, Veronica."

"Oh my God. Phillips? Is that you? Oh my God. What have you done?"

"We tracked your movements very far," he continued, "heard your little plan to go running off to the Followers. Did you think we would allow for that? This is a grievous crime against the Brotherhood of Steel; we had no choice but to intervene. Not only have you - with assistance from outsiders - defied the Codex and abandoned the Brotherhood, but you murdered five of our men in an unprovoked attack. What have you got to say for yourselves?"

A familiar icy chill shuddered through Brianna's veins. She took a step forward, her voice deathly calm. She was the eye of a storm. She would not be still for long.

"You mean to question me, paladin? You think you can march into _my _city and _slaughter _innocent men and women in their own camp, when all they did was succeed where your pathetic organisation has persistently failed? And you have the nerve to ask me what I have to say?" She took another step forward. "I'll tell you exactly what I have to say." Her face was so close to the paladin's that her nose was almost touching the steel of his helmet. "You are in _my _city under _my _rule, and if I wish to cut you down and nail your bodies to the outer gates, no one will stop me. Do you know what I'm going to do now, paladin?" She asked, taking her last pulse grenade. "I'm going to pull this pin. And if you dare take one step towards me, I swear to you, on my life and the life of everyone behind me, that I will _cast down your Codex and bask in the dying agony of all who hold it dear."_

She pulled the pin. Dropped the grenade. It fell with a soft_ clink_ against the paladin's feet.


	54. In My Time Of Need

**THE OLD MORMON FORT**

**AUGUST 18**

**13:58**

The world stood still. It held its breath and watched Veronica Santangelo break down beneath its weight, cursing her family and her failures and everything she knew. There was nothing left for her. They all knew it. Her past was bound to chase her down wherever she went, no matter how far she decided to run. This was the final assurance of everything she'd feared - that there was nowhere else she could turn, that there was no hope for the family she'd left behind.

The world stood still but they would not do the same, raging ceaselessly against the deathly hush. Brianna turned over tables and smashed bottles against walls. She screamed and cursed and destroyed while Sunny did the opposite, cleaning up the mess she left behind. With Cass' help, she did all she could to honour the dead. They turned the bodies face-up to the sun and slid their eyelids shut, knowing that the effort was futile, knowing that cleaning up the fallout was the only thing left to them. There was nothing more they could do.

Three doctors survived the attack. When the doors of the Old Mormon Fort swung open, Brianna drew her pistol and prepared for the worst. But it was Julie Farkas who stumbled in, stormy grey eyes swimming with tears. Word must have spread all throughout the slums, stories of metal men marching through Freeside with an arsenal of pulsing weapons. The doctor pulled Veronica to her feet, searching her face for answers. Brianna tossed down a broken chair and moved closer, catching fragments of conversation as Sunny reached for her hand.

"This is all my fault," was Veronica's answer to every question. "I led them here, I- they followed me. God, I never thought they'd go this far, I-"

"Slow down," Farkas said, keeping her voice steady. "Explain yourself. What happened? Who did this? Who are you?"

"I'm a scribe from the Brotherhood of Steel. Or I was," she corrected bitterly. "I left to join the Followers, to see if I could help you clean up Freeside, offer some help while the war plays out. I just wanted to do some good in this place. But they followed me, those spineless pricks, they knew exactly where I'd go. I was just trying to put it all behind me, find some place where I would actually have some influence. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I- I'm sorry those people had to die for me to figure out that there's nowhere left for me to go. I should never have come within a mile of this place."

She shook her head, grasping for words. "We're done. We're nothing. God, I knew we couldn't keep this up forever. I knew we had to do more, find someone who would defend us before the NCR moved in. I should have done something sooner. With those armies rolling right over the top of us, there was never any chance of us lasting much longer. This was our strongest branch, the place where we could do the most good."

"You still have your supplies, don't you? All your research?" Cass asked. "Gotta be something left."

"Our supplies are low enough as it is," the other doctor - Emily Ortal, going by her nametag - replied. "And regardless, there isn't much we can do with only two doctors and a field researcher. This is a devastating blow regardless of how optimistic we try to be. This is something the Followers can't recover from, not now."

_"Forsan miseros meliora sequentur,"_ assured the researcher, Arcade Gannon. He'd offered them extra medical supplies once. "There has to be something we can gain from this. We can bring in other doctors, pay for someone to go out and-"

"Pay them with what?" Emily snapped. "All the spare medicine we don't have? A roll of stickers? There's nothing left for us, Arcade! What we have on our hands is a hopeless cause. The Battle of Hoover Dam is coming. Even if those armies stay out of our way, we're going to be flooded with injured soldiers and squatters. Our hands were already full of alcoholics and chemheads, what are they going to do when they realise that no one is looking out for them anymore?"

"That isn't true," Brianna interjected. "Those people are rooting for the woman who killed Mr House, right?"

"That woman can promise us nothing but more riots and more war. Isn't she the one who turned the Silver Rush into a mass grave? Not that it was a huge loss, but regardless, all she wants is to get her hands on New Vegas, and now she's done it. What can she do for us when her army is made of scrap metal? How useful are soldiers with OFF switches? I can't see an army of Securitrons cleaning up the streets any more than I can see them tending our patients."

"Where were you bleedin' hearts hiding when Courier Six stormed Vegas?" Cass asked. "Take a closer look, doc. You're talkin' to the woman herself."

The doctor frowned, clearly confused as she looked Brianna up and down. "You're that courier, then. Are you here to use the death of our doctors to spout propaganda? Is that was this is about?"

"Hold on, Emily," Julie Farkas scolded gently. "We'll hear her out. Arcade is right, there has to be something we can gain from this. Giving up hope isn't going to benefit anyone, least of all those out there who never had hope to begin with. We're the beacon they look to for guidance, remember? We have to be willing to hear her proposition, to keep that fire from burning out."

The doctor chewed on her lip but remained silent.

"What happened here was an accident," Brianna continued. "But you're right. The Legion and the NCR are driving you to the ground. Even without the Brotherhood getting involved, this would have happened eventually. The reason the Followers are in such bad shape down here is because Freeside has no stability, no rule. Both of those armies are fighting for control so the other can't get it, not because they're desperate to clean up the streets. I'm trying to find supporters across the Mojave, appeal to some of the more influential factions to get them on my side. Do you know of anyone who might be willing to spare some men, to come down here and guard the Fort while you look for new members?"

"You could talk to the Kings, I suppose. They're already patrolling the streets, dealing with the thugs and raiders who manage to get in. If you could ask them to spare a few guards, maybe-"

"Hold on a second," Arcade said. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? I've heard of you getting the Boomers on your side, playing nice with the Legion so you could activate those robots, but I'm not entirely convinced you're on the right track. The only way to ensure safety for the people of Freeside it to prevent others from taking control of the region, I understand that. But it seems to me that your strategy is to try and convince the tribal factions out there to support you. How exactly do you think that's going to play out. Now, don't get me wrong, I very much support your cause. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing."

"Of course I know what I'm doing," she snapped. "I'm wrenching power from the Legion and the NCR. I've installed an A.I to the Lucky 38 that manages everything in New Vegas. Maybe I'm not a legendary war hero or a military general, but the thought of an independent New Vegas is enough to keep me going. And I certainly knew enough to get rid of one third of the opposition. I know _exactly_ what I'm doing, I'm just keeping quiet about it. The NCR continue to underestimate me, so I continue to live another day."

"Maybe you could help us, then. This could be our first step to recovery. The NCR won't let us live long if they take Hoover Dam, the Legion isn't an option, and Mr House literally isn't an option, so I suppose you're the best shot we have regardless of how capable you are. Alright, I think I know how we're going to get along. Talk to the Kings, convince them that you're on the winning side, get them to support you and guard the Fort from anyone else who wants to see us gone. If you can do that, you'll have us sold. How does that sound, Julie? She gathers up supporters while we gather up more doctors, and in return for her help we offer her aid in the upcoming battle if we can. How does that sound?"

"I think that could work," Farkas agreed. "What do you say, Courier?"

"I say give me five minutes and I'll have the Kings in my back pocket."

* * *

><p>A lot happened in five minutes. Veronica broke a chair in half and went with Christine back to the Lucky 38. Cass finished another bottle of whiskey, grumbled something about the NCR and stayed back with the Followers to help them clean up the mess at the Fort. Within five minutes, Sunny and Brianna found the King's School of Impersonation and were greeted warmly by a large gang of Elvis impersonators. Brianna got punched in the mouth by a man called Pacer after she compared the size of a certain part of his anatomy to a Mentat, and after that ordeal was over, she was making idle conversation with the King himself - who turned out to be the man who had tried to marry Sunny and Brianna back in Gomorrah - while Sunny cooed over a cybernetic dog with brain cancer.<p>

"Hope you haven't lost that lovin' feelin' for this golden gal," said the King with a smile. "Otherwise I'd be indescribably blue."

"We're talking about a war, Elvis, not my love life," Brianna replied, taking a deep swig from her beer and swinging her feet up onto the table. "You know I can't offer you people much, but peace in Freeside is going to make all the difference to your gang. You'll be able to patrol the streets easier with less NCR squatters causing trouble for you. And can you imagine an army of Elvises storming Hoover Dam?"

"I don't know, baby doll. I already said yes to helpin' out those doctors. Only the strong survive out there and us Kings have trouble enough with the damn thugs roamin' around. I know you're promisin' peace in the valley, but that Caesar's the devil in disguise. I don't know how well we'd fare up against him and his friends."

"You wouldn't be alone out there. I have Securitrons enough to defend you against the NCR and the Legion."

"Then what's the need to drag us into the fight if you've got all those tin men standing behind you?"

"I have five hundred Securitrons. A hundred are staying here. They're gonna be locked tight around the outer walls of Freeside and Vegas in case either army decides on a surprise attack while I'm gone. I need to spare a few more to patrol the streets inside. I'll have a hundred more divided between Goodsprings and Primm and more to patrol the busier streets around the Mojave. Let's just say I'm flaunting my power a little bit, showing off for the NCR. There'll be plenty entering the Dam with us while the NCR and Legion fight, but I'll need the rest of them spread out around the entire area and for the Legion base nearby. Regardless of how many robots I have to spare, I'll still be vulnerable."

"Angel, anyone could fall in love with you when you talk strategy like that. Keep on goin'."

"The NCR are in Vegas already- they've been patrolling the streets while I march around getting things organized. If they thought I'd be a threat to them at Hoover Dam, they'd have me dragged straight to the firing squad. And because the general wants to meet me, I'm thinking that maybe he's looking to form some kind of alliance. They don't expect me to take Hoover Dam. Caesar knows I'll be there, he knows I activated the Securitrons outside the Fort, so he'll be ready for me. But all the NCR expect is a nuisance to deal with after the battle's over. They expect resistance from me and my robots when they come back to take Vegas. That's even more of an advantage for us. Plus, the Boomers are on our side. They'll be ready to shake things up if things go bad, if you get what I mean."

"Baby, you're catchin' on fast. First time I ever saw your face I didn't think you were nothin' special. Think I might be havin' a change of heart."

"So you'll fight with me?"

"You keep doin' what you're doin' and honey, you'll never walk alone."

"So it's settled, then."

"It certainly is. On one condition."

"What?"

"My hound dog here, Rex, he's not been doin' to well. Poor baby's practically indestructible, but he's got a bad brain. I know a doctor down in Jacobstown who can fix him up, but I can't leave the Kings, you dig?"

"Never heard of Jacobstown. Where is it?"

"West, up in the mountains. Close to where those Khans are holed up, I think."

"Red Rock Canyon? Sure, I'm headed there anyway to make contact with the Khans."

"So you'll do it? You'll help my brave boy get better? I'll send you down with some caps to pay the doctor and everythin'."

"Sounds like a deal."

"Excellent! Oh, uh, word of warnin' before you get goin'. Place is full of Super Mutants and their blue friends."

Sunny turned her attention from the dog to the King. "Sorry, what was that?"

"You know, the big yellow guys? Only they're nicer than the normal muties, civilised. Thought you might want them at your side for this big battle. NCR's been givin' 'em trouble, so they'll hear you out if you ask them for help. You fix up my dog and you'll have an army of Kings and muties at your side. Sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Sound insane." She looked to Sunny, still crouching on the floor and rubbing the dog's belly. "What do you think?"

Sunny glanced at the King hopefully. "Can we keep him for a while after he's fixed? I had to leave my baby, Cheyenne back home so she doesn't get hurt. Think I'm already starting to miss her."

"Sure can, baby. Whatever you want."

"Then I think it sounds like a great idea."

* * *

><p>"You actually did it," Julie Farkas said. "The Kings are going to defend us?"<p>

"Along with my Securitrons during the Battle of Hoover Dam," Brianna replied. "You'll be safe."

"Oh, wow, that's- wow. That's incredible. Thank you. Thank you so, so much. If there's any chance of us recovering, you've just ensured it."

"It was our pleasure to help," Sunny smiled. "And if you need any help, you know, cleaning up the bodies-"

"No, it's fine. We can handle ourselves from here. But thank you. You're angels, all three of you. God, I'm just happy that you're the ones who are fighting for Vegas. Things could have been so different if you hadn't killed that Chairman, Benny." She pursed her lips, looking troubled for a moment, but the expression quickly faded. "Well, thank you. If we can gather up some more doctors, I'll try my hardest to get the Followers over to Hoover Dam."

Before Brianna could reply, Dr Gannon moved towards her. "Mind if I have a word?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm gonna go back and check on Veronica," Sunny said. "Maybe gather up some more supplies before we head west."

"Sounds like a good idea," Cass agreed. "Khans lost their strength after Bitter Springs, but I'd stock up on ammo just in case. They're still a tough bunch; I wouldn't wanna head down unprepared 'case somethin' goes wrong. I'll see ya later, Bree."

"Two ex-scribes, a cowgirl, a courier and her sidekick, and a cybernetic dog," Gannon mused. "After Hoover Dam, we should open an act at The Tops."

"We?"

"Well, that's up to you. I was thinking about tagging along, if you'll have me. I get that you're already travelling with a small army - figuratively and literally - but none of your friends look like doctors. And, I'll admit, I'm nervous about how exactly you're going to go about this battle. The Followers don't need me right now, not while they're trying to rebuild, but you could certainly use some of my sharp intellect and wisdom, right?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No ulterior motive?"

"All I ask in return for my assistance is that you turn a blind eye at Hoover Dam when I start slaying Legion left and right. Sound fair?"

"Sounds perfect," she agreed. "Welcome aboard."


	55. Recovery

**A FOREST**

**AUGUST 18**

**14:45**

"No, seriously," Arcade insisted, "have you ever snorted a ground-up Cazador venom sac? Because I guarantee you a Freeside junkie has."

Brianna rolled her eyes, taking a deep swig from her canteen. The Mojave was burning hot and Jacobstown was nowhere in sight, but she had no complaints. The doctor fit in perfectly with the rest of her companions, making amiable conversation as they left Freeside behind. And, to her great surprise and fascination, the road to Jacobstown led right through a forest. A forest that held not only giant mantis and bighorners, but also trees. _Trees. _Actual, living, real life trees, the kind she hadn't seen since Zion. The sight of them had kept the group entertained for a good length of the journey, with everyone sharing their own story about the last time they'd seen a living tree. But when the conversation shifted to the topic of Arcade Gannon, the doctor went quiet.

"Hey, we're asking because we're interested," Sunny told him with a smile. "No one in the wasteland is ever boring, trust me."

"And I appreciate the interest," he assured her. "But really, I'm nothing special. I like languages, medicine, and reading pre-war books about failed socio-economic policies. That doesn't exactly beg the question 'why on earth hasn't some lucky man swept this bachelor off his feet?' Seriously, these trees are more interesting than I am. Have you ever seen anything like it?"

"Oooh, so you're gay," Veronica said, not allowing him to change the topic. "Guess that's one thing we know for certain."

"In times like these, people have more important secrets to hide. Like being a serial killer, or a Legion spy, or a chem-dealing ex-raider."

"Guilty," Sunny mumbled.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"The ex-raider thing, it was a lucky guess. Oh, and the cazador venom sac? Tried it. Not a good idea."

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about," he said, exasperated. "All you interesting, murderous people hitting it off with silly Arcade who makes science jokes for his own amusement. So, in the interest of casual conversation, how many of you are actually heterosexual? Just out of curiosity."

Veronica snorted. "Lesbian."

"Same here," Christine added, her hand in Veronica's.

"Bisexual," Brianna said.

"Ain't fussed," answered Cass with a shrug.

"Asexual," finished Sunny, "but I'm down for the romance thing."

"Then forget what I said about starting a show at The Tops. Looks like we'll be hosting gay pride rallies in Vegas instead."

"That's what I said!" Veronica exclaimed. "God, we're gonna get along so well."

* * *

><p>Jacobstown was one of the prettiest settlements she'd ever seen. They found the place nestled snugly below the snowcapped mountains, the surrounding trees shivering in the cold air. It was made up of only one large building - a ski lodge, Cass said, bringing up something she'd mentioned a while ago about pre-war holidaymakers strapping bits of wood to their feet and soaring down the mountains. The building was long and wooden, painted with warm reds and browns. An icy pond lay just outside it. And right ahead, in the middle of the path, was a hulking green-skinned super mutant.<p>

"Welcome to Jacobstown, humans," the stranger greeted, alarmingly articulate for someone who was seven-and-a-half feet of genetically altered muscle. "I'm Marcus, the town leader. You're free to walk around as you please, just avoid staring at the Nightkin. And if you're NCR, keep it to yourself."

"What kind of town is this?" Veronica inquired. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I figured us mutants needed a place to call our own. Town's far enough away so humans don't bother us much, and we're more developed than our roaming brethren if that's what you're concerned about. Keep to yourself and you won't have to worry about an attack. Is there any particular reason you've stopped by?"

"A couple of things, actually," Brianna said. "I was hoping to discuss some things with you about the upcoming battle, things you might not have heard about from way out here. I know the NCR have a bad history with mutants and I think I could help you out with that. Also, we're looking for a doctor. Someone who can fix our, uh, cyberdog."

"Interesting. Talk to Dr. Henry while I discuss this with Eli. He's a newcomer, but his mind is sharper than most of our kind. I'll meet you out here when you're finished. The doctor's inside the lodge, first door to the right."

"You okay?" Sunny asked, looking to Arcade as they made their way inside. "You look a little uncomfortable."

"About as comfortable as I can get in a town full of mutants," he assured her.

They entered the room on the right to find two unusual things. The first was that the assistant doctor, intently studying a fizzing tube of something blue, was a ghoul. Her brittle strands of red hair and crusty half-blind eyes only alarmed Brianna for a moment before she remembered they were visiting a town full of mutants. The second was that the doctor, presumably Dr. Henry, was dissecting a rigid Nightstalker corpse. Upon hearing them enter, he removed his surgical gloves and turned around, revealing a tall, balding man in his mid-sixties, with large round glasses and a blood-splattered lab coat.

"No one told me the circus was passing through," he grumbled, eyeing every one of the newcomers with visible distaste. His eyes seemed to linger on Arcade for just a moment longer, but he showed no signs of recognition. "I assume this is something important? You're interrupting my research."

"Something's wrong with our cyberdog," Sunny explained with an apologetic smile. "A man in Freeside told us we should go to you."

"Alright, alright. I'll give him a look-over." He crouched down and called for Rex, who happily bounded towards him. "Good boy. Stay."

After a few moments, the doctor got to his feet. "It's neural degradation. Bio-med gel can only preserve a living brain for so long. I'll need to transplant a large amount of brain tissue. Could use one of the newer brains from my freezer, I suppose." At Sunny's horrified expression, he opted to elaborate further. "I've been doing some research on nightstalkers, trying to find out what it is they descended from. I've been looking at dogs and rattlesnakes to do some comparisons, single out some of the more specific mutations. All healthy brains, though. All I need is an incentive to perform the transplant. We don't ask for much out here, but I could certainly use the caps to improve my equipment."

"We've got caps," Brianna said. "And I'll be trying to make a deal with Marcus about something that could help you in the long run. How does five hundred caps sound?"

"Make it six and your dog's got a new brain."

* * *

><p>Marcus' friend was not someone Brianna expected to see. Arcade and Sunny stayed behind with the doctor - Sunny had vowed to make sure the dog was comfortable throughout the procedure while Arcade muttered something obscure about research and curiosity. That left Veronica and Christine - who both tensed immediately at the sight of the mutant - and Cass, who stood by and wondered why the colour had drained from Brianna's face.<p>

"Well that's a surprise," said God. "You made it out after all."

"Never thought I'd see you again," Brianna replied, looking the mutant up and down. The same deep scars criss-crossed his arms and torso and the word DOG was still clear across his chest. The fresh, brutal reminder of the Sierra Madre made her head spin, but she was relieved to see him nonetheless. Her last words to him had been a promise of freedom, and here he was.

"I could say the same. My memories started coming back after I left the casino behind me. You, locking me behind that gate. You, bringing the beast out when I wouldn't cooperate. You, saving me, helping me merge with him, helping us be at peace with one another. My mind is quiet now, calmer. You did that for me. Thank you."

_"Does that scare you? Do I scare you? Tell me, little bird, are you afraid?"_

"I'm just glad you got out of that place."

"So am I, friend." He looked to Marcus, watching them with idle curiosity. "Apologies, Marcus. Let me just ask one more thing. What happened to the Old Man?"

"We locked him in a cage, God. He won't be coming out of that vault."

_"They all heard the legends, the curses. Foolishness about the Sierra Madre lying in the middle of the City of the Dead, buried beneath a blood-red Cloud."_

"Good," he said, with a malicious smile. "I think I'll rest easier knowing that. And please, call me Eli. I took a new name once I left the Sierra Madre. Reminds me of my past. Hints at a future. A future we might share if Marcus' suspicions are correct."

"You're that courier from New Vegas," Marcus said, "the one who killed Mr. House."

"Guess the scar makes it hard to hide. What have you heard?"

"Not much," he admitted. "Isolation from humans has its advantages, but we rarely hear anything that isn't broadcast on the radio. We don't need the details yet, just the why and how."

"I have a better plan than anything the NCR could come up with," she replied. "After Hoover Dam they'll have you killed. Not sure how long you'll have, but they'll get rid of you eventually. Me? I don't think you're worth the time. You have a place here, you're not harming anyone, you're secluded. If you want to start trading with other settlements, I think I could organise that. All you need to know is that the Mojave will thrive without the NCR and the Legion. I have five people with me who will tell you the exact same thing."

"Don't get me wrong," Cass added, "NCR's my country, I support them, but they spread themselves too thin. Seems to be only raiders and convicts who benefit from that. I don't want to see them burn, just want them to back off, get out of the Mojave. But see, if there was ever a girl to get you pissed off at the army you believe in, it's Brianna O'Reilly. Forget us five - nearly everyone is New Vegas and Freeside is singin' the exact same tune."

"They don't have to support a lesser-of-two-evils anymore," Christine continued. "No need to hope and pray that the army who comes along to rule them isn't one who's gonna stick them up on a cross. With this, with Brianna, with an independent Vegas, they can start rooting for something that might actually do them good. That's enough for me."

"We want you to fight for that," Brianna encouraged. "The super mutants you have here could change the whole battle for us once we get to Hoover Dam. We don't need many of you - I'm thinking six altogether would do enough to terrify the opposition. I know it's a risk for you, but I'm asking you to help. In return for your assistance, you'll have my support after the battle. Like I said, I can help you start trading. Unlike the people who decide to fight against me, you won't be left behind."

"I'll call up a town meeting once you're gone, but it would help if you talked to some of the others, encouraged them. You'll have plenty of food and resources if you have to stay a while; us mutants don't tend to eat very much, so you're welcome to stay. If we agree to this, how will we know when the time has come? We have a few functioning ham radios around the lodge, if that helps."

"There's a ham radio in the Lucky 38, right?" Brianna asked.

"One that hasn't worked in over two hundred years," Veronica replied. "Give me half an hour with it and I'll have it good as new."

"Perfect. We'll contact you as soon as we have info. Sound good?"

Eli grinned. "Sounds excellent."

* * *

><p>Their cyberdog was as good as new, gnawing happily on a brahmin steak by the fire. Although the super mutants had offered them accommodation at the lodge, no one wanted to spend the night unconscious in a building full of flesh-eating mutants and schizophrenic Nightkin. They were instead welcomed to six unused bedrolls and a fresh supply of food from the pantry, enough to see them through their journey to Red Rock Canyon.<p>

It was a beautiful night. The forest was peaceful and hushed, stirring only at a whispering breeze of cold air. The campfire crackled heartily on the logs they'd gathered, lacing the air with the smell of sausages and steak. They'd found the perfect place nestled in the trees, every face illuminated by a warm amber glow. The first hour of their camping trip was made of murmured conversation and heads nestled against shoulders; the next was all stories and laughter and the clinking of beer bottles. As was the next. And the next. And the next.

"I've got a question!" Veronica announced. "What's the craziest thing you've ever experienced while drunk? Or on drugs, for that matter. Whatever you're into."

"Good question," Cass acknowledged, raising her whiskey respectfully. "Pass."

"No way, Cass, you're up first."

"Look, I've been in a lot of bar fights, kid, but nothin' beats the time I got corned by this squad of grandmas with rolling pins and frying pans."

"Bullshit," Brianna accused.

"Fuck you, I'm telling the truth. One minute I was stumblin' outta the bar, next I was getting my skull bashed in by Maud the Mugger. Woke up on the street with my purse empty, 'cept for a photograph of one of her grandkids. Bet no one here has a better story than that."

Brianna scoffed.

"What?" Cass said, raising an eyebrow. "Think you can beat that?"

"Sure do," she grinned. "Ever heard of The Thorn?"

All she received were five blank looks.

"Underground fighting pit in Westside. You wanna find out where it is, you have to ask the right people, do some favours. I got in, met this chick called Red Lucy." God, she was-"

"Hey," Sunny scolded, only half-serious. "Tread carefully, Brianna O'Reilly."

She stretched over to cover Sunny's ears. "She was hot as hell. Red hair and a gorgeous ass, had a look on her face like she'd just fucked your boyfriend and couldn't wait for you to find out. If that woman stepped on my face with those combat boots, I'd thank her for it." She uncovered Sunny's ears. "Anyway, I decided that I'd do anything in the world to impress that girl. She told me to try out her own personal brand of Mentats and I did just that. I just remember everything flashing in all these different colours like the whole world was having a party. Decided it would be a great idea to fight in the pits. So she asked me if I wanted to take on a deathclaw."

Sunny looked horrified. "Tell me you didn't say yes."

"Of course I didn't. I said 'I'll take on three'."

She buried her head in her hands and groaned.

Arcade didn't seem convinced. "You fought off three deathclaws on your own?

"I don't remember. All I remember is waking up in one of the empty cages with a pounding headache and a really sore ass."

"Sore ass?"

"I, uh- I have a tattoo on my ass that says 'property of Red Lucy'."

The group dissolved into laughter, Sunny most of all.

"Show us!" Veronica encouraged. "I am _not_ dying at Hoover Dam before I see this tattoo, O'Reilly ."

"Alright, fine. Anyone have a flashlight?"

* * *

><p>"Oh, I have one," Sunny said. "What's home to all of you? When you're lost or scared or exhausted, where are you thinking of when you say you want to go home?"<p>

"Pass," Cass answered, taking another swig from her bottle. "Not fair. Home was wherever my caravan was, but I don't dream of coming back to blood and ash after I leave New Vegas. And if anyone suggests the Outpost, they'll have my knife through their teeth before they can think about the bad, bad mistake they made."

"Well, home was the bunker for me," Veronica replied with a shrug. "Don't think I'm ready to let go of that."

"Ditto," came Christine's voice.

"My home lies wherever I can do the most good," said Arcade. "And as far away from the Legion as possible."

"Oh, come on," Sunny complained. "Doesn't anyone have a good story?"

"I have one," Brianna offered. "Zion. Most beautiful place in the world."

"Tell me about it," she encouraged.

"God, what can I say about it? It's perfect." She leaned her head back against the tree, remembering. "I found it about a year and a half after I came to the Mojave. Happy Trails caravan company wanted a mercenary and I was ready to travel again, so I-"

"You were with those bastards?" Asked Cass. "Used to be they were up in Sac-Town, near Shady Sands. Nearly put the Crimson Caravan outta business for a while."

"Who's telling the story, fucknut?"

"Go right ahead, traitor."

"I was with three others: Ricky, Stella, and Jed. Ricky was a lying fuck addicted to Psycho and God knows what else. Told me he killed a Brotherhood paladin by shooting him in the eye hole with an 11mm pistol."

"Which doesn't exist," Christine smirked.

"And the eye holes aren't holes," Veronica pointed out. "They're bulletproof screens."

"Exactly. I heard the same story a hundred times over about how he fought off ten _deathjaws_ at a time. Prick. Stella was alright - used to be a sheriff back in Reno - and Jed was fighting the Crimson Caravan in Shady Sands, I guess. They were pretty decent people, and they were all I had at the time. Took about a fortnight to travel to Zion, so you end up getting to know people. What their favourite food is, what they're afraid of, what weapon they prefer, how much they say when they're drunk. And when they're scared. When we made it to Zion, the caravan was attacked by White Legs. Tribals. Stella and Jed fought 'em off to the death, but Ricky used me as a goddamn human shield until I bashed his head against a rock. Cowardly fuck.

"I finished off the rest of them, took Jed and Stella's bodies down to the river. Can't really remember why I did it. Guess it was to honour them or something. They weren't much, but neither was I. They became like family after a while. I didn't know what to do, where to go without them. Jed was the only one of us who knew the way. After that, I got caught up with all kinds of crazy bullshit. Warring tribals mostly, which was why I ended up staying. The Dead Horse tribe, they knew the way out of Zion, but they couldn't help me get home until the White Legs were gone and the war was over. So I helped them. Just mercenary stuff, gathered some supplies, fought off some giant bears. Everything's giant in that place. Everything that can kill you, at least. I mean, imagine waking up in your tent to find that there's a cazador the size of a pre-war truck coming right for you. It was terrifying. But I _loved_ it. It had rainbows, horses, shrines to these weird mountain gods. The Dead Horses were some of the kindest people I ever met and..."

"What?" Sunny probed. "Come on, it was just getting good."

"None of you are Legion spies, right?"

"Caught red-handed," Arcade sighed. "Better disembowel myself so I don't have to live with the shame."

"Alright, alright. You know the man who was set on fire and tossed into the Grand Canyon?"

"The Burned Man?" Said Cass. "Everyone knows that story. Used to be all those tales about how he survived and-" She paused. "No fucking way."

"Joshua Graham is alive and well, teaching the Bible to Dead Horses in Zion."

"You told me you didn't know what religion was," Sunny accused. "Back when we met, remember?"

"Because I heard a different answer from every person I asked," she admitted. "I wanted to know what it meant to you."

"So all that 'what's a Jeezus' crap, that was fake? I fell for that? Wow."

"Wait, so you're seriously telling me the Burned Man's alive?" Cass demanded.

"He was the saddest man I ever met. Said that every second of every day it felt like he was on fire. He was bandaged from head to toe. It was him, Cass. He helped me love Zion, save the tribals, end the war. _By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. _I never understood his religion. Never understood why he was hiding. But he taught me a few things. He taught me that war wasn't always the way."

"Says the war leader," Arcade said.

"Hey, I said it wasn't _always _the way. But that's the story, believe it or don't." She turned to Sunny, sitting in the bedroll next to her. "So what about you?" She asked. "Where's home for you?"

"It's wherever you are," she smiled, as Veronica made a retching noise. "You think we could go there some day? To Zion?"

"We will," she assured her. "I promise."

That night, Brianna O'Reilly dreamed of just that.


	56. Ruination

**A FOREST**

**AUGUST 19**

**10:27**

Red Rock Canyon was everything Brianna expected. Scorching hot sand, rounded huts, red canyon rock and a lot of angry-looking tribals in tight leather shorts. Many eyed the group warily as they made their way up the hill, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from eyeing them back. There was beauty in the Great Khans, just as there was ferocity. Some piercing stares were outlined heavily with black; some cheeks were painted with colourful stripes to match the tattoos on their muscular arms. The canyon walls were decorated with all kinds of different images, from crude cave paintings depicting soldiers being shot down by scowling men in green armour, to stunning murals where naked men and women glowed in every colour of the rainbow.

"Every junkie in the Mojave would die of withdrawal if something happened to the Khans," Arcade said, keeping his voice low. "I'm not implying anything, of course. Just that the Followers would be very, very grateful if they somehow... disappeared."

"Hey," Cass warned, "be real careful what you say around here, even if it's quiet. They have a Legion-style fighting ring over there and these guys won't hesitate to strip you down and throw you in."

She was right. The ring came into view as they reached the hill's summit, a large section of land cordoned off by crude wooden posts. Steel sang against steel as younger Khans trained with their machetes, the bloody song echoing through the canyon. Brianna shuddered at the thought of being thrown in there. She could handle herself in a one-on-one, but even she wouldn't risk going up against a Khan with nothing but a machete. And if the rumours were true, they did in fact 'strip you down and throw you in'. To Brianna's relief the building they were looking for seemed to be right in front of them, and nowhere near the fighting pit. The fact that it was a building indicated that it was important, made of brick and concrete instead of sticks and shit. The symbol of the Great Khans - a grinning yellow skull with a red helmet - was spray painted on the door, contrasting hideously against the dull grey walls.

"This must be it," Christine said. "How are we going about this? I don't think they'd react very kindly to six complete strangers barging in on their breakfast."

"I'll stay behind," Arcade offered. "As much as I would love to discuss politics with a glorified Caesar-worshipping raider, I don't trust myself enough."

"I'll stay too," Sunny replied, "but it's Rex I don't trust." The dog barked happily, nuzzling against her leg.

"Guess that leaves me too." Cass shrugged. "Only right that the meanest looking pricks out of all of us get to head in there."

Christine smirked.

"We'll be out here in case things go bad," Sunny assured.

"If you hear gunshots in there, I'd try running in the opposite direction," Brianna advised, only half-joking. She knew for a certainty that if she screwed this up, there would be no leaving that building. The last thing she wanted was her girlfriend running in on some suicide mission to save her. The thought triggered a memory that completely took her aback, something she'd said to Veronica back in the Sierra Madre. She wondered if she even remembered it, whether she'd taken it to heart and treated it as more than just exhausted rambling from a broken mind. Because she'd meant every word.

_It has to be you._

But it wouldn't come to gunfire. Courier Six would do this, and she would do this right.

The building was a dining hall, lit warmly by the crackling fire in the centre. Animal skulls were mounted on the walls and the floor was decorated with a number of strange furs and pelts. Brianna was convinced that the one beneath her feet was deathclaw skin. Three long wooden tables stretched out across its length, each one occupied by no more than ten Great Khans. They gulped down beer out of strange, horn-shaped cups, throwing food and cutlery with jubilant abandon. They shared stories and laughed heartily like they had just returned from battle, giddy and content as they scoffed their breakfast. The table at the opposite end of the room was larger than the others, seating three distinct Khans who studied their family with amusement and interest. The man in the centre wore furs instead of leather, and a red horned helmet to match the yellow skull painted behind him. She knew at once that this was the man she was looking for.

When she took a step forward, the room fell silent. Veronica and Christine swept their gazes over the glowering Khans with expressions of passive disinterest before they joined Brianna in front of the leader's table. The man she sought was lean and muscular, the lower half of his face obscured by a thick tangle of beard. A deep scar cut diagonally through his face from one side to the other. He did not look surprised to see her.

"So the cub enters the wolf's den at last," he mused, his voice low and gruff. "What brings you here, cub?"

"You know why I'm here. You've been expecting me."

"I've been expecting a courier, yes. Are you the one who was sent?"

"I'm the courier who was sent by no one. The one who delivers hope."

"Hope." He licked his lips, tasting the word. "And how will you bring us this? What is it you want from the Great Khans?"

"I've come to ask the Khans to break their alliance with Caesar's Legion and fight for me at Hoover Dam."

"Have you now? You're a bold one, I'll give you that, but why should I do this for you?"

"Because Caesar can promise you nothing. If he gets the Dam, he'll be sure to celebrate his victory by hanging you and your army up as decorations."

"Ha! The Legion won't make us slaves, cub. Caesar himself has promised us the land from here to the Colorado and the freedom to raid as we see fit. Why should we rally for you? What can you give us that Caesar cannot?"

"What do you expect to happen after Hoover Dam? Do you think Caesar's going to welcome you all to his Empire, provide you with whatever you want just to keep you happy? He'll kill you. Maybe not all of you, but he'll destroy the name of your tribe, wipe it from history if that's what he wants. He'll kill the sick, the disabled, the elderly. He'll enslave your children. And what about the women here, what do you think will happen to them? They'll be beaten, raped, enslaved, Papa. No matter how hard you try to fight back, Caesar will strip away all of your glory. You think he wants his allies to be bold and fierce? He wants slaves. He wants you to be meek and submissive and obedient, ready to do whatever he wants."

Papa Khan rose to his feet. "I should have the skin flayed from your bones, Courier."

"You know I'm right," she challenged. "I've seen the Legion's work myself and I know exactly what they're capable of. I don't want to fight, Papa. I'm trying to get you on my side, not turn you against me. Let me ask the people here what they want, what they think is r-"

"I'll have my Khans drive you all the way back to Vegas, pup. This is your last warning."

"All I want to do is talk to them. And if they think that fighting for Caesar is the best thing for them, then fine. You'll see me at Hoover Dam."

* * *

><p>"Are you crazy?" Christine snapped when they were a safe distance from the dining hall. "Walking in there and telling the leader exactly what you're gonna do, that was stupid. The Great Khans are like the Brotherhood - preservationists. But it's their culture they're trying to keep alive. You have a habit of assuming that everyone will do exactly what you say when you put on your leader voice. It'll get you killed before we reach the Dam."<p>

"I know, I'm sorry. But God, I can't stand those Legion fucks."

Arcade held up his hand for a wordless high five. She obliged him with a triumphant smirk.

"Does the name Melissa sound familiar to you?" Sunny asked. The chieftan had mentioned a few names before they'd left, names of people they should speak to. "You don't think it's the one from Boulder City, do you?"

"The one from Graveyard Hill? Could be."

It was. They found the Khan sitting by the campfire, sharpening a spear. Brianna recognised the dark skin, lean build and ridiculous purple mohawks immediately. Though her face was filthier than it had been in Boulder City, her arms marked with more cuts and bruises, this was definitely the woman from the hilltop, the one she'd allowed to go free after beating her friend over the head with a shovel.

Brianna took a seat on one of the logs, joined by the rest of her companions.

"What the fuck? Why-? What are you doing here?" Melissa hissed. "What do you want?"

"Might want to use a calmer tone of voice," Brianna advised. "I had a traumatic experience on a hilltop."

Melissa's eyes darted from face to face. "You didn't come to make a scene about that. If you wanted me dead, you woulda done somethin' back in Boulder City."

"You're right. I'm here to talk about other things, like Caesar's Legion."

"Thought you were makin' a big deal about not letting anybody else get Vegas? Now you're fighting for them?" She straightened herself, looking smug as she continued, "Not a bad choice. Karl says I've got the makings of a _speculatore."_ She stretched out the poorly enunciated word as if she'd only just learned it. "I've been trainin' for the battle ever since I got back from that shitshow with the NCR."

"Melissa, Karl lied to you."

Her shoulders slumped. "Lied? What do you mean?"

"I mean that women aren't allowed to serve in the Legion. I've been to the Fort myself, I've seen what it's like. You and every other woman in Red Rock Canyon will be a small price to pay for an allegiance with Caesar. If you're extremely lucky, you'll be sold as an officer's wife. But let's face it, you're not the prettiest woman in the tribe, are you? The likeliest outcome is that they'll make you a slave. You'll be beaten, raped, forced to carry loads twice your weight. The Great Khans will abandon you. And I don't want to see that happen to you. I don't want to see that happen to any woman ever again, which is why I'm standing against the Legion. I just need your people to join me."

"That lying little weasel!" She yelled, throwing her spear to the ground. "I'm gonna kill Karl for what he said. Alright, what do you want me to do?"

"It's simple. You just have to tell Papa that you're opposed to an alliance with the Legion. I'll work out the rest."

"Deal." She got to her feet. "Papa's gonna have hell to pay if he tries to tell me no."

* * *

><p>"Look, man, me and Diane, we don't dig that politics stuff, savvy? We're here to make the magic happen."<p>

Brianna rolled her eyes, leaning back in her creaking recliner and shutting her eyes. From the second she'd stepped down here with her companions, she knew exactly why the canyon buzzed like a bloatfly on Buffout. This was where the magic happened in Red Rock Canyon. With only five caravans and two suppliers, the Great Khans shot up the Mojave with all kinds of happy stuff that made it mellow. Jack was in charge of the magic part of this operation. The cooking was all up to him and he excelled in making Brianna's head spin with talk of Psycho, Mentats, Med-X, Daytripper. Diane, on the other hand, did the selling. She enjoyed how the Vault 3 Fiends got hopped up on Fury and harassed the NCR patrols, so she continued to sell the stuff in bulk.

"Hey, I understand," Brianna relented. "I make magic happen too, just a different kind. Together, I think we could make the whole Mojave sing."

Sunny giggled next to her, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Jake mentioned something about, uh, sampling merchandise, right? If they tried some of the sweet new stuff they'd cooked up, he would hear them out. Well, here they were, sitting 'round the campfire, floating like bodies in a lake and totally not being heard out. That was uncool and Brianna made the point of saying so. They came here to- wait. Came here to, uh, make the Mojave sing, right? She couldn't remember. Man, this stuff was good. The weed to end all wars.

Jack's eyes darted about too quickly for Brianna's liking, so she shut her own and reclined even further.

"Y'know," Jack said, "Papa Khan's really not cool about all this."

"Papa Bear was the one who sent me," she mumbled.

"No way, man, he wants to-"

"Jack," Diane warned. "It's all cool, yeah?"

"C'mon, Diane, you know those guys freak me out. She's doin' a good thing for us."

"Papa wants her taught a lesson. Don't worry - she'll survive it. You got the stuff?"

"Yeah. I got the stuff."

God, the colours were beautiful. Had she ever even seen a spectrum like this before? And when had the sky looked like that? Everything was swirling, whirling around in lazy circles that made Brianna dizzy as she reached out to the sky and held the clouds. Was she always this tired? She supposed she could lie down and take a nap for a while. Her friends looked ready to do the same. The thought was so nice - napping together with all of her buddies. So nice, in fact, that she didn't even notice the needle stabbing into her vein.

* * *

><p><em>"Where am I?"<em>

The question was a whisper, a croak, a deafening screech. Darkness had its arms around her; she could feel it buzzing on her skin, feel its tongues dragging up and down her arms. She struggled against her bonds, against the snakes that were coiling around her wrists and keeping her bound tight against the dining chair. She could feel the creatures squirming at her feet and oozing down her throat like a mouthful of warm water, like too much cough medicine, like a stranger's tongue.

_"Who am I?"_

This time she wasn't certain if she'd spoken out loud. Her voice was swallowed by the quiet ambience of a familiar place. Footsteps. Creaking. Clicking. Red blurred the edges of her vision, swallowing up the black. The stuff was in her skin. It was rattling in her lungs and her terror shook the stars. She wanted out, she wanted out, she could hear the sound of footsteps again, edging closer and closer and closer they were coming for her they wanted to pull her apart again where was Veronica where was Dean Domino where were her friends they were coming for her, these things were coming for her and no one was here to save her.

_"Help me!"_

The words drew razor blades across the skin of her neck as fingers wriggled into her mouth, trying to pull the right words out of her, words she had never learned to say. Promises, apologies, allegiances, they all turned to sand in her mouth and she spat blood on the molten ground. An instant flickered by and _the pain was unbearable she wanted to die make it stop make it stop they're pulling me apart _and then another and another and another every second was another torture scene and she knew in her gut that this was the way she would die. Facing a firing squad and squirming on a stake and leaping off a clifftop, embracing the abyss. A hundred million impossible survivals and she had known every one of these instants so well, had lived through every second that flickered before her eyes.

Pinned against a wall, struggling for breath, fighting for freedom _I'm not your property and I'll slice of your fingers and keep one for my collection_ and there were hands crawling up and down every inch of her body in search of flesh, but she would bite and claw and scream until the final building in the Capital Wasteland fell and she was the only one left to hear it.

Hammering against glass, trapped in a snow globe as the one she loved slid down and down and down_ I am Alpha and Omega_ she had come too late she had come too late it was over they won but she had lost everything _the beginning and the end_ she had been eternal with this woman she had been a goddess she had watched the Earth bloom to life and watched the fallout take it all away _I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life-_

She was stone and she was crumbling and she was post-apocalypse silver and she was beautiful as she stood there and she was nothing she was nothing _please take it all away this is all I am you're peeling the flesh from my skin but you'll find nothing but rot inside I swear I promise just stopstopstopstop I can't see I can't breathe don't show me what I am._

She was explosive and she was earthquake and she was slicing off fingers in the wreckage of a wreckage of a wreckage and was this all she was? Pressing a gun to the forehead of someone she needed she was staring into pale grey in a sea of red like his eyes like his blood like the casino that had closed down on her like a bear trap it was slicing through skin she was laughing remembering a rooftop remembering home watching them leave her behind for the Trappers the memories were too much she felt the jerk of the pistol as she pulled the trigger and pressed the gun against her temple this was it this was all she could ever be she was ruination.

_"Let me go!"_

The world was darkness and it exploded to life the word WHORE was cut into her chest and her entrails like her eyes were left for the crows she could hear them above her and their cries were deafening and her ears were bleeding make it stop make it stop YOU CAN GO HOME NOW COURIER she could see everything this was everything she was afraid of alone on the streets blood pooling in her heels make-up running down her face _someone take me please_ RUN RUN RUN she was swallowing mouthfuls of flesh and planning her death FINᗡ GOᗡ IN THƎ ƧIMPLƎST OF BƎAƧTƧ and there was a swarm of shadows beneath her but home was in her soul and her hands were houses and her arms were lined with crooked streets and there was a lakehouse in her lungs and she remembered that place so well. She had to climb she had to climb and the sky broke apart and she was the Mojave wrapped in leather drenched in blood, embracing her hurricane like an old friend.

* * *

><p>The blindfold came off and she was surrounded by corpses.<p>

She stared, eyes wide and filled with terror, at the massacre around her. She couldn't scream. She couldn't breathe.

Veronica and Christine holding hands. Throats slashed.

Arcade, face-down, a machete embedded in his back.

Cass' skin was yellowing like old paper, her eyes grey and gone.

Sunny. Sunny. Even after everything, she had died just like the rest of them. Her body lay at Brianna's feet. She had a red smile stretching from ear to ear.

Brianna O'Reilly found her voice and screamed.


	57. Awakening

**RED ROCK CANYON**

**AUGUST 19**

**12:00**

Lightning sparked in her brain, crackled through her veins. She fought against her restraints, fought against the images flickering behind her eyes. Every torture she had ever known and every one that was yet to come, she'd felt it. All of it. Watched it all play out in front of her like a pre-war movie. She'd watched herself from somewhere above, from a place that was distant and abstract. She'd watched herself struggle and scream, watched Diane stick needles into her skin and leave them there to burn. Then she was back in her body again, staring down at the crumpled forms of-

_No._

They were alive. They were somewhere else, they were _staring at her with wide, dead eyes _she was hallucinating, this wasn't real, this wasn't real, this wasn't real. She'd witnessed death in the Mojave, oh, so many times, but she had come to know so much more than that. Holding hands in an Old World casino, flying up from the lake with a bomber beneath her feet. This was The Wasteland and there were no happy endings but she could see them everywhere around her in the form of a broken woman with scars on her face relaxing into the embrace of someone she thought she'd never see again. She saw hope in the form of a woman in the crowd who never should have been there, but they had kissed in the middle of the chaos and told stories by the campfire with people who held onto hope as tightly as they could, with people who were not dead.

Brianna O'Reilly was awake at last.

And she was very fucking angry.

She was sitting in the centre of the fighting pit. The Khans had crafted some kind of throne for her, much like Papa Khan's but with slight differences. The differences being that it was a regular wooden dining chair with a number of long sticks protruding from the back. Someone had decorated her chair with a string of lacy bras and sprinkled it with glitter. With her hands bound behind her back, she could only sit and glare at the Khans who watched her from behind the spiked barricade of the pit. There weren't many, but she knew there had been more. Others must have left when they'd grown tired of watching her shriek and squirm, when they'd realised that she had no more screams left in her.

It wasn't long before she found the faces of her friends. Sunny and Arcade stood close together, muttering something she couldn't make out. Cass kept a growling Rex at bay as Christine's calculating eyes swept over the Khans around her. Veronica's never left Brianna's face as she searched for some flicker of emotion, some sign that she wasn't defeated. Their bodies were tense and their eyes burning, all five waiting for the right moment to start bashing in skulls. That was all she needed. That picture of unwavering strength and trust was enough to burn away the images of cold, dead eyes and gaping red smiles. It was enough to blur the faces of the army that looked down on her like she was already broken, like the needles in her veins held enough liquid to douse the fire in her. They thought she'd go running off to Vegas waving a white flag because they'd put her through a bad chem trip. They thought that playing back her greatest fears, her worst memories, would break her into submission.

They were wrong.

They had made her a spectator of all her greatest triumphs, let her watch over and over as she tore herself apart and stitched herself back together, as she rose from the ashes of a life from long before. She had watched a broken courier get shot in the head on a hilltop and watched a hero step forward and press a gun against her temple. She had seen the fire die in her eyes over and over and every time, _every time,_ the dying light exploded into fireworks as she fought with every breath for the broken world she loved. She had never realised how beautiful she was, how powerful, how dangerous. When Papa Khan moseyed towards her with an expression of sly victory, she almost laughed in his face. She almost thanked him.

"You know, you could have just killed me."

"I could have," the chieftain agreed, moving behind her and slicing through her bonds. "But your life isn't mine to take. It's Caesar who will crush you like a bug."

"Bugs are mighty big in the Mojave. They tend to put up a fight."

He stepped in front of her. She drove her foot between his legs. His knees buckled as she wrenched the knife out of his hands and plunged it into his neck. The fierce and mighty leader of the Great Khans barely gave a croak as his body hit the dirt, the acrid stench of bodily fluids wafting from the fresh corpse. She put one foot on his torso, digging her boot into his chest in an obvious challenge to the furious army around her.

Upheaval.

It happened in an instant. The Khans came surging towards her, raising axes and machetes while her companions sprang into action. One swing of Veronica's metal fist was enough to sever the top of a Khan's spinal cord. A bullet from Cass' shotgun tore a vicious hole through someone's torso as Christine climbed up to higher ground, readying her sniper rifle. Sunny sent six Khans to the ground before they could give her so much as a bruise. She tossed her gun in Arcade's direction, sending Rex forward to tear out throats while he reloaded it. After handing the weapon back, he produced a tiny plasma pistol from the pocket of his lab coat. Six shots later and a group of Khans were screeching in agony, peeling off both plasma and skin from their faces.

_With friends like these..._

Brianna cut upwards with the bloody knife, the blade slicing into her enemy's neck and through the roof of his mouth. She wrenched the fire axe from his loosening grip, swinging it in a wide arc to deflect the blow of a machete. She forced the bigger Khan back with desperate strength, the head of her axe soon meeting flesh and leather. A debilitating cut through his side was enough to send him to his knees while she separated the top half of his skull into two neat halves. Her heart sang with feverish delight as she deflected blows and split through skulls, drinking down the sweet rush of revenge.

And then her axe wasn't in her hand anymore. She stumbled back, stunned for a moment until she saw the smiling woman charging towards her, bloody axe in hand. Her skin was paper white and splattered with blood; her irises were glaciers that sent a chill through Brianna's body as she side-stepped the blow. She reached down for her gun. Found only an empty holster. There were more coming at her from all sides. She had no time to think, no time to consider before she feinted left and tackled right, charging into the woman's side and pinning her to the ground. With a groan of pain, Brianna ripped a syringe from her vein and stabbed down with all her might, the needle piercing through the wailing Khan's pupil. She yanked out the needle from her other wrist and pushed it into her other eye before taking the axe and scrambling to her feet. Blood poured down the woman's cheeks as she writhed in pain, but she couldn't hear her screams over the song of steel against steel.

There were three coming at her from either side, wielding spears and swords. She met the first swipe of a blade with the head of her axe but it wasn't enough. Sunny raced to cover her, putting a bullet through one Khan's head as Brianna fought back another two, hacking mercilessly but never meeting flesh until a shot to the leg sent one down just long enough for her to slice through his neck. She grabbed the remaining Khan by the hair, ramming his face down into the point of his own knife. When she span around, axe raised, the first face she saw belonged to Melissa. There were tears in her eyes and a gun in her hand.

She pressed it into Brianna's palm.

She took the pistol for the apology it was, stepping in front of the Khan and sending three others falling to the floor with three jerks of her finger. Sunny's pistol was empty but that didn't stop her from pinning down a man twice her size, wrenching the blade from his grip and slicing his throat. A group of five others had backed Arcade into the pit, but that didn't stop him from burning through leather and skin with his plasma pistol while Cass blew off limbs. Rex tore out the throat of every Khan to fall.

The sight lasted only for a moment before more enemies were on her. Her vision was swallowed up by leather vests and tribal tattoos as she shot and tore and sliced her way through the mob of attackers. But their numbers were dwindling, their cuts were weak and their leader was dead. She knew these people planned on fighting to their last breath. The head of their dying army had fallen. They were turning against each other or running away. There was nothing to be won from this. This fight had become a suicide mission.

It wasn't long before she lost all sense of time. Her world was flesh and steel, falling apart one body at a time until the Great Khans were all dead or fled. Her muscles were screaming with exhaustion, her hands dripping with blood and the woman from the hilltop was slumped against a mound of rock, her blood painting the sand as she choked out fleeting words. Brianna rushed to meet her.

"Makings of a speculatore," Melissa breathed. The sound that escaped her throat might have been a laugh or a sob. "What a joke."

"Who did this?" Brianna glanced at her companions. None of them spoke. "Was it one of us? God, Melissa, I-"

"No." She shook her head. "Khan. Stabbed me. Never saw his face. Saw me helpin' you. Thought I-" Her words broke off into a spluttering cough. "Knew it was pointless. You killed Papa. No one left to lead us. Wasn't your fault, I guess. War's war and everything you said about the Legion, it was true. Always knew that. Nothin' left for us. Nothin' but chems. All we do is hack at training dummies, sneak around behind each other's backs to help s-scumbags like Benny. No more trust. No more hope. Nothin' but chems. Nothin' but chems. Started rethinkin' everything."

She sat down next to the dying woman, taking her trembling hand.

"I- I'm sorry. The shooting, the hilltop, never should've been there. Never should've let him do that."

"You don't have to say sorry. It isn't over, this isn't it for you."

"You don't have to tell me all that. I'm gonna die, Brianna. That's alright with me. Just wish I coulda done somethin' better. Coulda done somethin' good."

"Hey, you gave me the gun, remember? You saved my life. And if Caesar wasn't such a vicious prick, I bet you'd make the best damn speculatore this wasteland's ever seen. Look, just- God, please don't die feeling guilty. You've repaid me more than enough. You don't have to die. Too many good people die out here."

"Sorry to disappoint," she laughed. "Mind stickin' on the radio for me? That'd be good of ya."

She did. As the music played, Melissa's eyes fell shut. She mumbled something incoherent, her grip loosening on Brianna's hand with every line. She seemed to be drifting off to sleep before her body gave a final lurch. Her chest rose and fell one final time, and Brianna knew that the woman from the hilltop was gone. She tried to say something, tried to send her off in some decent way, but they were all just broken people sitting in a field of corpses, and nothing they could do would make Melissa's death beautiful. Her words broke off into a tiny sob as she wrapped her arms around Sunny, knowing that she was alive because of this angry, hopeful tribal and she hadn't even remembered to say 'thank you'.

_"I love those dear hearts and gentle people,_

_That live in my hometown."_

_Because those dear hearts and gentle people,_

_Will never ever let you down."_


	58. No Gods, No Masters

**NEW VEGAS**

**AUGUST 19**

**04:12**

_"Courier Six! Courier Six! Courier Six! Courier Six!"_

The streets of Freeside were pulsing with energy as Brianna O'Reilly made her presence known. They passed through the city like a fire. Quiet. Consuming. Armoured in black metal with their faces like stone, they were as cold and immovable as the robots that guarded them. Until something happened. Something that ignited the desolate slums with a light to match the neon of New Vegas. A child with fragile bones knocked together like a trader's junk collection, a child curled up like a wounded animal on the freezing pavement, opened her eyes and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes blazed under the dim streetlight, as wide and round as a Platinum Chip. The first jumbled words to leave her lips were "Courier Six!"

And then it began. Men and women scurried out from dilapidated buildings, all bleary eyes and translucent skin. They watched with awe and fascination as six people marched, hands joined to create a bond as impenetrable as the one forming outside the walls as Yes Man sent the Securitrons into position. Courier Six was the name on everyone's lips, tearing past the burning throats of chemheads and con artists, desperate mothers and hopeless gamblers. As she looked on, a fierce pride swelling in her chest, Brianna found herself in each and every one of them. She found herself in the darting gaze of a woman in rags and in the grim determination of a stony-eyed prostitute. She found herself in that young girl's fiery hope and in the voices that cheered as loud as they could despite the chemicals in their lungs that tried to force the words back. Brianna O'Reilly had once fancied herself to be the Mojave wrapped in leather and skin, and so too was she Freeside, once hollow and broken but now alight with purpose.

"Are you with me?" She asked, finally knowing the answer. "Are you with me?!"

_"Courier Six! Courier Six! Courier Six! Courier Six!"_

"I'll keep you safe!" She promised. "I'll give you a chance at something beyond all this! Beyond whoring and gambling and pumping your veins full of chems! I'll give you protection, people you can rely on, a leader who knows what living in the dirt feels like! I swear to you, to all of you, that I will tear down any army who wants to put you in chains! I won't let you be enslaved by Legion whips or by troopers and taxes! We're leaving those broken governments behind! We're saying goodbye to the ghosts of the armies that broke the world! We're going full speed ahead this time! And we're never turning back!"

_"Down with the Legion! Down with the NCR!"_

"So if you're standing here praying for the Bear or the Bull, ask yourself one question! Who broke the world?!"

_"They broke the world! They ruined us! They forgot us! Who broke the world? Who broke the world? Who broke the world?"_

The chanting followed them past the gates as wave upon wave of Securitrons wheeled over to join them. It would take two hours of steady marching to reach Hoover Dam and they were running out of time. Word reached them just before they reached Vegas, talk of enroaching gunfire and movement in the east. They had almost come too late. They had two hours to make plans, talk strategy, talk about everything they hoped for and everything they'd miss if this was the last fight they would ever have. But they were ready, every one of them. The cheers from Freeside sent them forth into the cold darkness of the desert until the sun began to burn through the clear Mojave sky. Courier Six knew in her gut that the red on the horizon was the promise of blood.

* * *

><p>"That's gunfire," Christine confirmed. "Looks like the party's started."<p>

"And they didn't invite me," Brianna muttered, crouching on the hilltop and peering through the scope of her rifle. The NCR were out in force, the bulk of their light infantry protected by three lines of heavily armoured troopers with shotguns and hand grenades. They fired their guns almost in unison, blowing back Caesar's men before they could even put a scratch on a single beige-coloured helmet. But the heavy troopers' strength and ammo wouldn't last forever, and the Legion were throwing themselves against the opposition with all of their might, like a red ocean crashing against the rocks. The sheer number of them was staggering. Once they broke the NCR's line of defence, the infantry behind would be cut to ribbons in a matter of minutes.

So they would wait. They had just enough time to go over their plan and say what needed to be said before heading down to join the battle. The armies were far from spent, both strengthened by bloodlust and adrenaline. They wouldn't go down easily, no matter how long she left them to cut each other down. These soldiers were just like her: young, brave and bulletproof. Or so they thought. Morale was high and casualties were low, and for many of the soldiers down there, this would be the first and only battle they would taste. Brianna planned the first stage of the battle around the belief that the cannon fodder would be so drunk on destruction that they wouldn't notice death moving in from behind.

"Everyone clear on the plan?"

"We head down with ten tin men on either side of us," Cass replied. "You've got the rest standing on defensive, waiting for your command. We steamroller in from behind the NCR lightweights and cut right through 'em 'til there's nothing left but Legion."

"The Followers - as many new recruits as we could gather - are being guarded by twenty Kings in the medical bay," Arcade continued. "They can dismantle the NCR's forces from the inside and hopefully take down quite a number before they realise the Followers are working against them. The others are patrolling the NCR headquarters. As soon as the NCR realise that there's another enemy on the field, the Kings will start taking down everyone inside. Brutal, but necessary. I assume you're leaving the rest of the robots outside until they're needed. We'll need a lot of them when we're going up against praetorians."

"I'll stay here with Christine," Sunny said, "try to pick off as many legionnaires as I can while you're dealing with the NCR. When you start moving further up the Dam, I'll find another vantage point that's closer. Christine can help me set up some mines around the entrance, behind the rest of the Securitrons, to make sure there aren't any surprise attacks. Rex can stay up here with me in case there's trouble. When are the mutants showing?"

"They haven't arrived yet, as far as I know. Yes Man can transfer himself from robot to robot - he'll be able to find them and tell them where to go. Same with the Kings. They brought a Securitron with them to the medical bay; Yes Man can deliver reports from there."

"Not a bad plan," Arcade supposed, "considering we've had precisely no access to the Dam before all this and very little time to prepare. Only downside is that we couldn't get contact with the Boomers."

"We barely have an idea of where's where," Brianna worried, "but according to Yes Man, the Legion dominate the entire east side of the Dam. NCR will be spread thin enough trying to keep them at bay - they're outnumbered pretty badly. It won't take much to finish them off. Looks like this fight is all about the Legion." She got to her feet, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. "It's time. We ready?"

_"Praestet nobis,"_ Arcade replied. "I'm ready."

"Good luck," Sunny said, taking Brianna's hand. She pressed her lips against the courier's, running an unsteady hand through her hair as they said a silent goodbye. "I love you," she gasped. "I love you, and we're going to win this. We've risked so much, changed so much. It can't all be for nothing."

"It won't be," she promised. "No matter what happens, no matter how this ends, at least I got to fall in love with you."

As Sunny pulled away, Brianna caught a glimpse of Arcade and Cass giving each other knowing glances, the rest of their companions kissing and touching and saying what might be their final goodbyes while the scientist and the cowgirl were left to raise their eyebrows.

"Just- just before I go, I-" She paused, taking a deep breath. "This was all you, Sunny. All of it. You got me out of the Sierra Madre and Red Rock Canyon. You pulled me out of every grave I dug for myself. When there was nothing else to fight for, there was always you. There's you in everything I do, baby. I love you."

She kissed her one final time, for just a fleeting moment, one that ended far too soon. Before she knew it they were racing down the hill and her ears were filled with the chattering of machine guns and the crackling of fire. She heard the metallic hiss of Veronica's gauntlets, the steady click-click-click of the Securitrons' tires rolling along the pavement, and every detail of Sunny Smiles was swallowed by the war.

This was everything.

The Securitrons rolled into formation, locking into a solid metal wall that separated them from the back of the NCR's attack line. Her companions stood with their heads held high, muscles taut, weapons ready. In that second, she knew that this was more than just supporting the woman who promised freedom. They were fighting for so much more than the lights of New Vegas and a stranger with a bullet scar. The NCR had driven the Brotherhood of Steel into that bunker, taken the lives of Veronica's parents, driven Father Elijah insane with false hope. The NCR had been Cass' family and they'd turned their back on her, left her with nowhere else to go but the bottom of a bottle. She didn't know what the Legion had done to Arcade Gannon, but they twisted his features into a mask of burning hatred.

As for the woman who led them, her anger was fierce. After this day, she would be done with tin soldiers and the blind men they fought for. She would be done with men so lost in the Old World that they were blind to the suffering of thousands of people, so utterly convinced that they could reshape the world into the image it had once been. Once, someone had told her that the world was like a bottle, and this bottle had been smashed to pieces. There was no lifting up the fragments and trying to piece them together into the bottle they used to be, that would only get you hurt. But you could always fit new pieces together, shape them into a mosaic, change their shape entirely. Doing so would scratch your fingers, but in the end you would have something new.

It was an awful metaphor, made by a woman back in DC who'd been high on dangerous chemicals. But maybe she could find some truth in it.

"Ready! Aim!" She yelled, firing her commands into the smoke-filled air. "Fire!"

The robots unleashed a hail of bullets into the backs of the NCR, decimating row upon row of troopers before they even knew what was coming. The first wave fell like a house of cards, so quickly it was almost laughable. The NCR's position allowed for reasonable protection against the spray of Legion bullets, but no one had anticipated a wave of Securitrons coming from behind. After a few moments, nothing stood between Brianna O'Reilly and Caesar's Legion.

She charged headlong into the army, assault rifle at the ready. Her robots fired rockets into a Legion squadron that were approaching from their right. To her left, an NCR artillery gun went up in flames. Brianna leapt into action, firing a round of bullets into the nearest legionnaire, starting at the pelvis and finishing at the skull. The next was on her in an instant, machete raised. She ducked beneath the first swipe, feeling the next bite into her leg as she brought the soldier down with a few well-placed shots to the chest. The Legion gave her no time for fancy trick shots. Shooting them in the midsection until they stopped moving was the only way to go, and so far it was working. These men had been armoured to face a light squadron of NCR, not a small army of robots. They were angry, confused, thoroughly unprepared. Things would get harder as they moved onwards, she knew, but the young legionnaires' improvised formations and enraged screams made one thing certain.

The Legion wouldn't win this fight.

Veronica met a charging legionnaire with a hard uppercut to the jaw, knocking him to the ground. The woman was a hurricane, bombarding through the opposition with all the chaos and confidence of nature. She deflected machetes with her fists, crushed skulls between her metal gauntlets and twirled with the elegance of a dancer. As she cracked through spines and knocked men to the dirt, Rose of Sharon Cassidy tore through Legion midsections with casual ease, blowing the enemy to pieces with her combat shotgun and rendering Veronica untouchable.

_"Pulchrum die!"_ Arcade cried, charging through the pile of ashes he'd created out of Legion soldiers. She caught only a glimpse of his delighted expression before a legionnaire's sword swiped for her head. She felt the icy sting of the blade against her cheek, fighting back with a torrent of bullets into the soldier's leg. He buckled, allowing her just enough time to unloop a frag grenade from her belt and toss it into an oncoming wing of Legion. The explosion sent a wave of adrenaline through her as the legionnaire straightened himself. She fired another three shots into his torso before hearing a dry click.

She took a step back, reaching for her ammo belt and untying a magazine. She wrapped her fingers around the bullets, fumbling with her rifle as she attempted to dodge the rapid swipes of the machete. She had the magazine in hand, ready to reload before a trail of fire blazed through her hand. The weapon, with the magazine, clattered to the ground. The legionnaire raised his machete for the final blow to her head as blood gushed from the severed veins in her hand.

He was gone. Brianna blinked for a dazed moment as she scrambled to her feet, gripping her bleeding extremity as she searched for the soldier who was about to kill her. She found him on the ground, blood gushing from his head, and wondered if the shot had come from Christine or Sunny. She gulped down a breath, retrieving her pistol and stumbling away from the centre of the action, searching frantically for Arcade. The doctor was lost in a sea of red. "Shit, shit, shit," she breathed, her back hitting something solid. She spun around, aiming her pistol at the head of the man behind her. When she saw his face, her lungs emptied with relief.

"Patch me up, doc," she said, as Arcade shouldered his rifle and reached for his bag, moving with rapid speed to produce a roll of bandage and a stimpak.

"My covert bandaging skills aren't great you know," he muttered. "You're lucky you didn't lose half your hand."

"That would be inconvenient," she replied, jamming the stimpak into her neck as he bandaged the injury. "Alright, I'm fine, get back out there."

"Another wave up ahead!" Veronica cried, as Brianna stepped back into the battlefield. It looked like most of their Securitrons had survived the onslaught, but Brianna spotted a few lying in busted heaps, electronics hanging out in a stream of crackling wires. But they had won. They'd broken the Bull's back, littered the Dam with crimson corpses as the remaining infantry fell back. A couple of missiles from her remaining Securitrons finished them off.

"There's a lot of them, Brianna!" Veronica yelled, fighting to be heard over the oncoming sound of gunfire. "What do we do?"

"Yes Man!" Brianna called, as a familiar smiling face flashed onto the screen of the nearest robot. "Send down more Securitrons, as many as you think we'll need. Arcade, you ready to tear shit up?"

"I love tearing shit up!" Came the doctor's breathless voice as he reloaded his plasma rifle.

"Slow down there, hot stuff," Cass drawled. "Save your energy. This ain't over yet, not by a long shot."

Opposition was waiting for them beyond the entrance to the Dam's headquarters. All NCR, marching in neat rows with their rifles at the ready. Brianna kept her distance, standing a long stretch back from the tower's entrance. She saw the words **GO HOME LEGION! **scrawled across the wall. The sight almost made her laugh, until she found another scribble of graffiti below it. The handwriting was familiar.

**YOU CAN GO HOME NOW, COURIER.**

The doors to the NCR headquarters slammed open, and out poured a small army of men in bulletproof leather jackets and skinny jeans. Brianna watched with a triumphant grin as fifty Elvises rushed out to meet her, led by the King himself. The sight was incredible. The early morning sky was awash with red, clouded by thick trails of smoke. They'd paved the road to the headquarters with Legion corpses and an army of heavily armoured NCR were standing in their way, but Brianna O'Reilly laughed as the two forces ran to meet each other, the faintest shimmering of Stealth Boys in the distance indicating that Jacobstown had joined them.

The Kings and the NCR collided, the morning once again coming alive with the sound of gunfire. This would be the final battle before they reached the Legion's strongest forces. She would make it worth remembering. Together, her companions charged into the fight. The NCR had divided themselves between two sections of the Dam, with one half of their troops fending off the Legion while the other faced Brianna and her Securitrons. With the robots on one side, the invisible mutants behind and a throng of Elvises tearing through their defences from the centre, the NCR were at a painful disadvantage. As the soldiers came at her with all their strength, pumping bullets into her robots and tossing grenades with reckless abandon, she knew that the NCR no longer had any hope for victory. Their troops were scattered, their men unprepared for the sheer force of will that was Courier Six. Their medical bay had been overrun, their headquarters taken, and with Securitrons guarding every exit, there was nowhere to fall back to.

This was a suicide mission.

As she threw back NCR soldiers and tore through them with bullets, Brianna caught sight of a young trooper's throat slicing itself apart. The cut was like a red eye opening, weeping red as the soldier fell out of sight. Next to him, a woman's neck suddenly snapped. Jacobstown was out in force, cutting down the bulk of the NCR before they even knew what was coming for them. Even after the mutants became visible and the soldiers could clearly see the Nightkin in the straw hat slicing through them with her sword, there was another unseen force sending troopers to the ground. Sunny and Christine remained somewhere above them, sniping the heavier soldiers before they had the chance to do damage. For those few minutes of mindless combat, she knew with all her heart that this fight would be easily won.

"Is that more of 'em?!" Cass yelled, standing at Brianna's back with her shotgun in tow.

_"Another squadron!" _Yes Man confirmed._ "Four hundred and fifty soldiers in total!"_

Brianna ducked under a wall of sandbags, hastily reloading her weapon. Cass ducked down next to her.

"We can't take another hundred men," Cass gasped, "never mind four hundred and fifty."

Brianna fired a spray of bullets into a tight cluster of soldiers just ahead. "We can't retreat, not now. Where the hell did those men even come from?!"

"Must've started marching when they heard you were coming. They must've known somehow!"

"Shit, Cass! Fuck!" This couldn't be happening. Not now. They'd been so close.

"You've got two options, Bree. You shoot yourself in the head right now or we go out there and fight 'em 'til it's over."

"What's option three?"

"There isn't one. Not this time."

"Yes Man," she croaked, hoping the nearest robot would hear her. "How long 'til they make it here?"

_"Thirty minutes tops!"_

"How fast can the rest of our Securitrons make it here? Send them! All of them!"

She didn't hear the robot's response. She huddled tight against the ring of sandbags, shooting anyone who got too close, inhaling shallow breaths and wishing she was home. Wherever that was. She had half an hour to fight her way through the remaining NCR, half an hour to take on the praetorian guards at the east of the Dam, thirty goddamn minutes to find her friends and say goodbye. There was no running from this. There was no more help coming for them. Even with all her Securitrons, even with a fully equipped medical bay and fifty Kings standing with a small army of mutants, there was no way they could win. She didn't need to hear what Yes Man said. She knew the answer would amount to 'not fast enough'.

"Hey, we took down one army," Cass said. "Wish I coulda picked off as many Legion fucks as I could. Instead I'm stuck with the people who are meant to be my family."

"I'm sorry, Cass. I thought sending those stupid robots out to the highways would be a smart idea. I made one dumbass cocksure move and it killed us all."

"Not your fault. You couldn't have expected this, none of us could. Gotta be a bright side, th-"

Brianna frowned, glancing at the suddenly silent woman. "Cass? Cass?" The woman's eyes were hazy, glazed over as she stared into the distance. Her skin had gone from pale to white so that the freckles on her cheeks stood out like blood on snow. Cass released a feeble gasp, looking down at her torso. That was when she saw it. A spreading dark stain, barely visible on her black armour. Her breathing was shallow, her body jerking in pain, her eyes growing distant and Rose of Sharon Cassidy was dying, Brianna's old best friend was slipping away from her just like everything else in the world, just like the Dam, just like victory, just like everything she had ever fought for.

"No. No, don't do this, Cass. Cass, can you hear me? I said don't fucking do this!" She took her by the shoulders and tried to shake her into consciousness. "Cass!"

"You know," Cass croaked, "after all this... still glad I... left that place..." A sudden cough wracked her body. Blood stained her lips. "It was... it was nice to-" Her eyes widened just a fraction. Her lips stretched into a faint smile. "Well, would y' look at that," she laughed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "We're gonna make it."

Her body gave one final jerk, then slumped.

And her final breath was lost beneath the swelling drone of a vertibird.

Brianna got to her feet, eyes wide with disbelief as the plane came roaring across the horizon. She recognised it. She had snagged her foot on it once, a long time ago.

The Lady was flying.

She soared overhead with all the grace and magnificence of a bird, swooping right over the army of NCR that marched in the distance. Three dark shapes fell from her belly, colliding with the ground in an almighty explosion. The air was consumed by a torrent of flame and smoke, rising triumphantly upwards, a signal of victory. Brianna stumbled towards her companions, awestruck as they watched the explosion. Christine and Sunny joined them. The smoke in the distance was clearing, and she could see the sunrise beyond the mountains. She took Sunny's hand. Christine fell into Veronica's embrace. Arcade shrugged, turning to the eager King and kissing him on the lips. The startled Elvis impersonator returned the affection with equal enthusiasm.

"The NCR has left the building!" He declared.

* * *

><p>They passed through the Legion camp with a hundred eyes watching them. Courier Six led her companions past rows of wooden crosses, past slaves with wide, fearful eyes, past sneering praetorians and their snarling mongrels. As her Securitrons spread themselves out across the camp, none opposed her. As her friends spat at the feet of the men who had enslaved the East, none opposed her. Instead they waited, watching as a towering man in a bronze mask descended the steps of the hill to meet her. Legate Lanius.<p>

The Monster of the East.

"An envoy of Vegas," he observed, voice low and muffled. "Any woman of that city of cowards should be clad in something much less modest than armour. Tell me, Whore of the West, if you aren't here to pleasure my praetorians, then why? Have you come to learn your place - in my tent, begging for release, and again at the edge of my blade? Come, throw down those weapons, let me show you how the Legion deals with-"

"Are you done, shithead?" Brianna snapped. "I came all this way, slaughtered so many of your men, yet your leader hides in his tent at Fortification Hill and sends me a vicious, dick-dragging misogynist with an ugly mask. I'm disappointed."

"Such strong talk, but we shall see how brave you are when nailed to the walls of Hoover Dam, your body facing West so you may watch the world die."

"Oh, I have. Time and time again, alive, unbound, I have watched the world die. I could watch you butcher the West as you did the East and consider it quite a dull spectacle compared to the horrors I've seen before. You call me the Whore of the West and perhaps I am, but who else here would dare say that to my face? Not any of your guards, because I can see that tiny hint of fear in their eyes when I walk past them. Not any of your centurions, because I opened all their throats. Not even Caesar himself, because I slipped right under his nose to activate my Securitrons before he could even smell the betrayal. You can't frighten me, Legate. All that talk about how your mask is shaped in the image of Mars, how your name means 'butcher' in Latin, how you raped and enslaved all the East in the name of your Roman God and you still can't frighten me."

"Enough talk, profligate. We shall settle this now."

"The Whore of the West against the Terror of the East. Fair combat, you and me. I have Securitrons enough for your praetorians and my friends will assist in cutting them to pieces." Her hatred for these monsters kept Courier Six's heart pumping. Her anger was fire and her blood was gasoline and it made her strong enough to make this decision. "Get me one of your blades and I'll face you in single combat."

"Facing you would be the equivalent of a boot facing an ant."

"Then how about a boot facing two ants?" Arcade challenged, stepping forward to face him.

"So be it," he said, drawing one of his blades and pressing the hilt into Brianna's hands. "The victory here shall be swift. The Legion will take the Dam and secure it, and pave the road West with the bodies of the NCR. Nothing rivals the strength of Hoover Dam."

"Nothing but me," Brianna threatened, swinging the blade with all her strength.

He met the blow with the edge of his sword as the Securitrons got to work with the praetorian guards who rushed to his defence. The man's strength was immense, knocking her back, but she powered on. Swerving to one side, she sliced upwards into his arm, the blade biting into metal as Arcade aided her with jets of plasma. The guards were closing in on either side of them, fought off by Veronica and Christine while Sunny readied a grenade. She could hear the chorus of gunfire in the distance as her Securitrons handled the rest.

Lanius dealt a heavy blow to Brianna's side. She feigned a tumble to the ground, allowing the Legate to raise his sword once more before she drove her blade into his leg. Despite his efforts to bite down the pain, he released an agonised howl as she slammed the sword down on his head. She sliced right and left, knocking him to the ground before she was thrown aside. But the blow did not come from the Terror of the East. It came from Arcade Gannon, as the doctor pushed her aside, wrenching the blade from her grip and cracking it over Lanius' head.

_"Filius canis!" _The doctor yelled, slamming the weapon into the Legate's masked face. _"__Es mundus excrementi! Stercorem pro cerebro habes! Quando podeces te regi eorum fecerunt?!" _Lanius gave a yell of rage and got to his feet, shoving him to the ground. As Brianna reached for her gun, the Monster of the East plunged his sword into Arcade's chest and ran it through his torso.

"No!" Came Veronica's voice, as she powered through the onslaught of legionnaires. She slammed her fist into the head of a praetorian, almost knocking it right from his shoulders. With the next, she knocked him off his feet with a swift uppercut to the jaw before slamming both metal fists into his skull.

"Veronica, get back!" Christine yelled, fending off a guard with a scavenged machete.

"No! Enough of this! Caesar's advancement ends here, right now!"

"Many graves of the East are filled with those who said as much, with braver words, not backed by strength. Time to fill another grave, profligate."

As Veronica met his blade with her fists, Brianna rushed to Arcade. He was alive, just barely, but he only had seconds.

"Remember-" He gasped, sputtering out blood. "Remember back- back in Freeside... when you asked me for the Latin phrase for... 'go fuck yourself'?"

He choked out the phrase with the rest of his strength, before his body shuddered and went still. Brianna's jaw clenched, along with her fists as she retrieved her blade. When she span around, her heart stopped. The world slowed. She watched as Sunny fought off two legionnaires with nothing but a pistol and a cyberdog, screaming curses all the while. She watched as praetorians collapsed around her, staining the sand with blood. She watched as slaves huddled in their tents, not daring to hope for a Legion loss. She watched as Christine screamed Veronica's name. With a desperate yell and wide, terrified eyes, she watched as Veronica Santangelo pulled the pin of a grenade and embraced the Monster of the East.

_"Veronica!"_

The explosion went off in a flash of light and the world stood still.

_"It has to be you."_

The blast rang in her ears. Blinding light ate up her vision.

_"If only one us makes it to Vegas, gets the chance to change the fate of the Mojave, change the world, it has to be you."_

Her hands scraped against the pavement as she scrambled to her feet. She couldn't remember hitting the ground.

_"You're the one who showed up to save my life."_

The smoke began to clear. She could see Christine, see her screaming though she could not hear it, couldn't hear the pain and the grief and the anger.

_"We both want to make a difference, make the world a better place, but you're the only one that can do it."_

When her senses returned, the first thing she saw was a pneumatic gauntlet. Only that.

_"It has to be you."_

She found Legate Lanius struggling to his feet, his armour scorched and crumpled. Brianna watched him stand, visibly injured as he took a shaky step forward. "Is that all you people can muster?" He grunted. It was only then that she realised there was no other sound in the camp. The praetorians were dead. Sunny was standing at her side. Christine was staring down at the remains of the only woman in the world she loved. The world was silent. "That suicidal act was too weak to even wash the stain of your disgrace this day."

_"Futue te ipsum!" _Brianna screamed, plunging her blade into his chest.

* * *

><p>Silence fell upon Hoover Dam as they left the bodies behind. Six people had entered the Dam from every corner of the Mojave Wasteland. Three remained, removing the heavy packs from the backs of the terrified slaves, allowing them to sob or laugh or kick the Legion bodies as they pleased. They left with the intention of returning to New Vegas and announcing their victory. After that, they would allow themselves time to recover. To grieve. To recover the bodies of their loved ones and return them home. As they reached the camp's exit, the walls blew apart.<p>

Brianna stumbled back, readying her rifle for whatever enemy still remained. She watched with disbelief as six NCR Rangers marched in, three moving to either side of her as the smoke from the blast cleared. She spotted a silhouette among the yellow haze as NCR General Lee Oliver strolled calmly towards her, weapons holstered, a cigar between his teeth.

"Caesar on the cross," the General said. "Been a long time since I've seen the kind of work you laid down today, a damn long time. Not a single legionnaire remained to run screaming back East. Shame, that. Would've been a choir of angels to my ears. Could use a hundred of you, spread you all over the East like you did with those robots, give those plumed fuckers the what-for."

"Hold that thought, General. I'd like to introduce you to some friends."

As the smoke cleared, the General turned. The sight of five hundred Securitrons greeted him.

"Oh, uh-" He cleared his throat. "These boys with you? Mind telling them to put the weapons down? I was just reaching into my pocket to hand you a cigar."

"General Oliver, Hoover Dam is mine. Walk away."

"I would sooner dance on the grave of my dead mother than have some walk-the-wasteland fuck talk to me like that!" The General spat. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Looking to cash in that Chip for some NCR bullets, huh? I can oblige."

"Given your situation, Oliver, I don't think a temper tantrum would be wise right now."

"Look, I know you're riding high right now, but you're not just pissing on me, you're pissing on the Bear. And I'm guessing you've been far enough West to know just how far that claw stretches. Fuck with me, you fuck with the Bear, and if you fuck with the Bear-"

"One more word and my Securitrons fuck you _and _the Bear _and _you're entire battalion with a rocket barrage."

"No. I came for a fight today. What makes you think I won't march over right now and-?"

"Yes Man, please throw General Oliver off the Dam."

"Hey, what the hell? No! Get away from me, you goddamn TV on wheels!"

* * *

><p><em>"What's up, my beautiful friends in the Wasteland? This is Three Dog and you're listening to Galaxy News Radio, bringing you the news... no matter how bad it hurts. Some excited reports from the Mojave Wasteland are telling us that a woman named Courier Six has taken control of the New Vegas Strip and practically everything else in that big-ass desert. Don't look at me like that, you know who she is! Remember the woman who travelled with the Lone Wanderer, that crazy chick from Vault 101? That's her! After wiping Hoover Dam clean of the NCR and Caesar's Legion, Courier Six unleashed robot hell upon Caesar himself at Fortification Hill. I know, I know, this is all too far away for anyone in the Capital Wasteland to give a damn - get it? Dam? Bad pun, moving on - but come on! Since the big LW saved our asses from the Enclave, practically nothing is going on out here. I'd sooner talk about the woman who stormed Hoover Dam with an army of robots, mutants and Elvis impersonators! Man, I wish I could've seen that! Coming up next: your daily dose of nuclear radiation and some smooth, smooth jazz."<em>

**ERROR: BROADCAST_INTERRUPTED! RADIO_FREQ: "courier six" FOUND!**

_"Courier Six? Courier Six? You know what you did. Come find me. See the Divide. See what happened, what was done. See a world stripped bare, all its beasts, its shadows. You know the way. Bring all your weapons. Bring your convictions. Bring your flag, Bull or Bear, or whatever else it may be. And at the Divide, you and I, we'll have an ending to things. This is your road. When you walk it, you'll walk it alone."_

**- END OF PART THREE -**


	59. Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

**NEW VEGAS**

**AUGUST 20**

**10:19**

_"Wow, we really gave those legionnaires the what-for! Caesar never saw that coming! The Legion's been wiped clean out of the Mojave and the Kings are on their way to Cottonwood Cove right now to rescue the slaves! As for the NCR, they're packing their backs and marching out from Camp McCarran as we speak! Congratulations, buddy! We did it!"_

Brianna smiled. "We sure did. Hey, could you turn down the lights, Yes Man? My head's killing me."

_"Sure thing, boss! Want me to send in a couple of clean-up bots to get rid of those empty whiskey bottles? You've left a whole lot of 'em lying around."_

"No need. I'll clean 'em up later. How's the Strip looking now?"

_"Like it's on fire! I wish you had a thermal camera so you could see how pretty it is! I mean, uh, the window's right there if you wanted to see it for yourself. But anyway! There are loads of people out on the streets celebrating! The Securitrons prevented the Omerta family in Gomorrah from wiping out everyone on the Strip and the White Glove Society has been eradicated! You could go and join the party if you wanted, you know. I bet everyone's waiting for you to come out and say hello."_

"Maybe later. What about Freeside?"

_"Just the same! Some kind people from the Strip brought them nice food and drink, but things are a little hectic at the moment. The Securitrons are keeping things under control, but people are going a little wild without the NCR around. But don't worry, I've got some good news! The Boomers are eyeing up Camp McCarran, thinking about settling in and getting some new recruits! Hoover Dam really inspired them, and you should be super proud! You'll see things settling down real soon, I hope! So, uh, try to join the celebrations while you can. Also, those three Securitrons you sent back to the Dam? They're back."_

"Oh," was all she could manage for a moment. "Did they, uh-? Did they find the bodies?"

_"Sure did, pal. They're being delivered to the Followers now. That nice doctor lady is expecting them."_

"Good. Great. Thanks, Yes Man."

_"No problem. Hey, I know what'll brighten you up! I did some digging around after the battle, and guess what I found! A new software, straight from Mr. House! It should help me become a little more, er, assertive, I suppose. Nothing sinister, I promise! It'll just make me a little more tight-lipped around strangers. I think I'd be a lot more helpful if I could only answer to you and your buddies! So what do you say, friend? Should I install it?"_

"Wait a while. I'll get Veronica to take a look at it and- I mean, uh, yeah, go ahead."

_"Fantastic! Well, I'll just get going then! I'll be offline for a day or so while I make a few changes! I hope you'll be feeling better after I come back!"_

The smiling face flashed off the screen. Courier Six sat in a darkened room, a bottle of whiskey in hand as she planned the funerals.

* * *

><p><em>"Courier Six? You know what you did. Come find me."<em>

* * *

><p>The bodies were burned in the Ultra-Luxe hotel in the same place the White Glove Society once flame-grilled their brahmin. The ashes were dumped unceremoniously into three black boxes and given to their owners' surviving companions to bury on a hilltop outside the abandoned sharecropper farms. Christine dug Veronica's grave, silent in her anguish. The King dug Arcade's, commenting sadly on what a beautiful man he'd been. Brianna dug a grave for Cass, humming a familiar song under her breath as she did. It had been Cass' favourite once, back before either of them knew what having heartaches by the number felt like.<p>

The service passed them right by. Only a handful of people were left to remember the sacrifices made by these people. Only Brianna had watched Cass' hopeful eyes glaze over, watched her body go limp as she bled out on the battlefield. Only three people out of those who stood there had witnessed Arcade's final moments, almost biblical as the tiny man stood tall against a raging Goliath. The same three had watched Veronica charge into the abyss with everything to lose, grenade in hand, her lover screaming out her name before the explosion brought the world to a halt. The Followers had been killed, Cassidy's Caravans burned and the Brotherhood abandoned. Only five people in the world were left to grieve.

This was a joke.

This was a pathetic "may you rest in peace" when only three people here knew that Veronica Santangelo would never rest until the Brotherhood of Steel left their bunker, until Christine Royce no longer woke screaming from nightmares, until Freeside was a place where people could be safe within their own walls. Rose of Sharon Cassidy had never known peace, had never found it at the bottom of any bottle, had never found it in the stars above her head when she walked home from a drunken night. Cass always had a gift for smelling blood on the horizon, for sensing an oncoming storm, for knowing in her aching heart that the Mojave would not be settled for long. She saw the world in symbols, looked fear in the face and knew exactly what it meant. She found metaphors in blood-stained sand and hope in a burning caravan and not even in death would she know peace. As for the restless Dr. Gannon, they had known him for such a short time, rolled their eyes as he tried to doubt their cause while knowing in his soul that it would be the death of him.

Words were said, none particularly inspiring. Julie mentioned some of Arcade's notable quips and shared a drink with the weeping King while Brianna murmured her memories of Cass. She apologised for what she'd told her outside the Lucky 38 before she'd taken off to the Sierra Madre. She wished Cass had heard the words in life, wished that she was here right now with her drawling words and rolling eyes. Christine was silent and still as Sunny sat against Arcade's headstone, scratching Rex forlornly behind the ear. The headstones were shoddy and hastily made by a frantic yet understanding Michael Angelo, but at least their friends wouldn't rest in unmarked graves. Dr. Farkas had helped them find some Latin quotes to engrave on them, from Arcade's favourite book. _Alenda lux ubi orta libertas _was engraved on his. _Auribus teneo lupum _was inscribed on Veronica's. And for Cass, _Aut viam inveniam aut faciam._

When the sun fell behind the mountains, only Christine Royce remained on the hilltop.

* * *

><p><em>"See the Divide. See what happened."<em>

* * *

><p>"I should have done something," she thundered. "She was right there, why didn't I stop her?!"<p>

Brianna could do nothing but offer her chaos. She sat on her bed in the executive suite, curled up next to Sunny as she allowed the mournful woman to tear the remnants of her room apart. She grieved in the rawest way possible, screaming out her soul until every word felt like a knife in her throat. As she found a hundred new ways to destroy herself, Christine discovered that anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt. She claimed her new voice with a gut-wrenching scream, opening her arms to the emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole. Through Christine Royce did Vera Keyes mourn the loss of everything she'd ever known, and through her voice did Christine shock Brianna to the core. She thought that three friends had died on the battlefield of Hoover Dam, but she knew now that Christine Royce had never made it out alive.

"She was the only thing I had! Why?! Why did she have to find me again just so I could watch her get ripped away from me?!"

"Christine," Sunny said, failing in every attempt to calm her. "Christine, listen to me-"

"I can't stay here. I can't go back to The Circle without her, I'm nothing, I'm nothing, I-"

"Christine, calm down, just breathe, it's okay-"

"It should have been me," she gasped, as panic nestled inside her. "I was never supposed to make it out, they wanted me to- to die finding Elijah. She- she was supposed to stay here and- and make a difference, she was supposed to-"

_"She did._ Christine, she did, she did, I promise. We wouldn't have made it out alive if she hadn't done what she did. You heard what Dr. Farkas said, she saw the body herself. That little strip of photographs you got taken together, she had them in her other hand. It might have been the last thing she saw, just the two of you smiling together."

"S- stop, stop-"

"Don't you think that means something? Maybe she thought that sacrificing herself would be her last shot at making a difference. She tried so hard with the Brotherhood and they cast her out. There was nothing left for her. You saw what they did to those doctors, they would never allow her the chance to do anything good again. No matter how far she ran, the Brotherhood would track her down and make sure she never joined the Followers, make sure she never found happiness anywhere else in the world. Her death was not your fault. She knew exactly what she was doing, and none of us could have known that, not one of us could have stopped her. What would she think if you just gave up now?"

"I can't stay here," was all she had to say. "I can't, I- I know where I have to go. Back to Big Mountain, back to where it all started, I have to-"

"We'll go with you, both of us, I promise. The three of us, we survived. That means you'll never have to walk any road by yourself. You need to go out there, Christine. We all do. We need to get out of this place, go meet the people whose lives we saved. Go out there and see what our friends died for. Because even though I never got the chance to know them like I should have, I know for a fact that if Heaven exists, those three are up there cheering for us."

"She's right," Brianna agreed. "We got all those supporters down in Vegas because they wanted a leader they could see, someone who could be brave and stand up for them when no one else could. We can't take that away from them just because we won the war. Those people are fighting battles of their own down there. We can't give up on them."

"New Vegas was never my fight. I was fighting for her, only her."

"You think that's how it works? You think you get to step down, give up, after everything that brought you here? You think that's what Veronica would want?"

"She would want to be _here _with _me!"_

"Well, that can't happen! I'm sorry, Christine. I'm so, so, sorry. I know how much you loved her. Even in the Sierra Madre, when there was nothing left to lose, you loved her. I know how much it hurts. That ice that freezes you over from the inside, out. That sting, that pain always stabbing at your chest until you go so numb that you can't even feel it anymore. We all know what it's like. But we keep fighting."

"Fighting for what?! What's left for me to fight for?!"

"For every second you draw breath!" She got to her feet. "For every second you're alive and she's not. We fight for every person who's survived to this point, every person who's still around for us to save. We fight for every person Veronica died for. We fight for everything there is, for everything the bombs left behind! It hurts, it hurts every single day when the person we love isn't fighting by our side, but we find something, _something_ that keeps us going, no matter what, no matter how long it takes, no matter how bad the pain gets, we have to keep finding something to fight for. So find it. Scream, cry, break everything that's left to break, but, God, just don't stop looking or you'll lose every single part of yourself, and the world will leave you behind."

* * *

><p><em>"See a world stripped bare, all its beasts, its shadows. You know the way."<em>

* * *

><p>New Vegas was on fire. She could see it all now, see everything she'd done, see everything she'd saved. It burned with all the intensity of a fever dream, with all the buzzing energy and vivid colours of a Jet trip. She could almost feel every life pulsing around her, feel the inflation of hundreds of lungs, hear the beating of hundreds of hearts as the people of New Vegas found their purpose, or the will to search for it.<p>

A bottle found its way into her hand. She drank, kissed, danced, laughed at the sky because she was so happy to see it. She greeted every single person she could find, learned the names of every one. Dollie, Ella, Frank, Marilyn, Deacon, Max, Riley, Gadget, Lydia, Jarret, Bullwhip. She'd saved hookers, gamblers, traders, mercenaries, smugglers, barmaids, doctors. April, Horowitz, Andy, Caleb, Martina, Travis, Dazzle. Every one of them danced to the music blaring from the roaming Securitrons. They shouted, sang, sobbed the words. Friends, lovers, families and strangers all danced together, forming the biggest party Brianna had ever seen. This was the sweetest chaos she had ever known.

More crowds awaited her in Freeside, more people she could learn the names of. More people she could hug, because plenty of them wrapped their arms around her before she could even say hello. More people to share drinks with, dance with, laugh with. She shook hands with that ghoul hooker from the Atomic Wrangler, met up with a man named Old Ben who had, for a time, been her only friend in Freeside. She hugged a little girl named Grace and wished her all the luck in the world. Someone had let FISTO the sexbot loose among the streets and somewhere along his escapade he'd been given a floppy pink hat and a feathery boa. Someone had stuck an unnervingly phallus-like object to his head, but the robot didn't seem to mind. She ran into the King himself, who shouted his condolences and congratulated her on her victory. He pulled a baffled Christine into a bear hug before the two fell out of sight. Somewhere in the middle of the crowd she bumped right into Sunny Smiles and kissed her with all the exhausted passion left in her.

At the end of the night, a new flag flew from the Lucky 38 Casino. Like the symbol of the Old Word, a dark blue circle standing atop five red stripes. But the symbol of clubs replaced the circle, with a white star dead in the centre. Drunk and giddy in the Lucky 38 with some borrowed paint, a tipsy girlfriend and an ex-scribe who'd forgotten how to smile, they painted the new symbol on a white sheet and managed to fly it from the empty flagpole on top of the building. Below the stripes were three names.

* * *

><p>"<em>Bring all your weapons. Bring your convictions. Bring your flag, Bull or Bear, or whatever else it may be."<em>

* * *

><p>"It feels strange, doesn't it?" Sunny mumbled. Her eyes were still heavy from sleep, her hair shining in the sunlight that peered through a crack in the curtains. "Like something's not right. Arcade and I got along so well. Veronica loved him. Even though we were just getting to know him, you two clearly adored each other. When we camped outside Jacobstown, you two talked for hours after the rest of us fell asleep. And Cass, she was just starting to warm up to us, starting to figure out what was next for her. I think the battle was supposed to be the first step towards her future. And Veronica-" She pursed her lips. "It doesn't feel right, Brianna. They never got an ending. They were right in the middle of their stories, there was so much waiting for them, and it just ended, just like that. But it feels like they're still here. I stood at their funerals but it still doesn't feel like they're gone."<p>

"I know what you mean. Before Hoover Dam, I had visions of us all hanging out here, making plans for the Mojave, passing through with friends and throwing the greatest parties in Vegas. Veronica should be hammering on the workbench, fixing up some pre-war junk. Sometimes I hear Cass humming along to the radio in another room. Arcade should be coming in and out with reports and stories and cussing people out in Latin. It would have been perfect. But instead it's just quiet."

She sighed, nuzzling closer into the heat of Sunny's body. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course."

"If I told you that I had to leave New Vegas, leave the Mojave, just for a while, what would you say?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's important and it's only for a few days, I promise."

"Why? Where are you going? What could be _so_ important that you have to leave the day after your friends' funerals?"

"You said it yourself. They never got an ending. Where I'm going, I- I think I might be able to find an ending to things. Come with me. I'll explain things when we get there, I promise. It isn't far and we can stop by some of the towns on the way. Novac, Primm, Goodsprings. We can send some Securitrons, keep things under control until Yes Man comes back online."

"I don't know, Brianna. Do you think Christine will be okay? She's a fighter, I know that, but I'm worried about her."

"I don't think there's much we can do for her. She needs time to figure things out. Time to said goodbye to Veronica, if she can do that."

"You're talking like it's just her who needs time to say goodbye."

"I can't face those graves gain, Sunny. Not until I face whatever's waiting for me out there."

"If leaving's going to help you, I'll go. There isn't much we can do until your robot wakes up again, right?"

"Right."

"Still not gonna tell me where you're going?"

"Not until I know how to explain."

She gave a sympathetic smile. "I'll pack my bags."

* * *

><p><em>"And at the Divide, you and I, we'll have an ending to things."<em>

* * *

><p>The wreckage loomed over her like some savage beast, a dark shadow rising against the amber of the evening. An icy breeze carried memories through the canyon, memories of a cold-hearted woman who reminded herself time and time again that safety was a lie, that laughter was a sin, that her happiness would not last forever. The wind's low howl was the cry of coyote pups and the crackle of meat roasting over a warm fire.<p>

"I don't understand," Sunny said. "You brought us back here? Why?"

"I have to see it. See the Divide, see what happened. I have to see what I did. And I have to go alone."

Sunny took a step back from her, her face a picture of horror and disbelief. "What are you talking about? You said you'd explain things when we got here, so go on. Explain to me right now why you brought us here."

"It's just like I said. I'm looking for an ending to things. I can't run from this, Sunny, not anymore. In Hoover Dam, on the wall of the headquarters, I saw the exact same words that are written in the scrap. _You can go home. _The person who wrote all this is still looking for me. He tracked me down, he knows where I am, and he's waiting for me to find him. Christine said she met a courier in Big Mountain who was looking for Courier Six, wanted her to sink her feet in the Old World ash, see The Divide. I don't remember his name, I- I think it's the same courier who pulled out of the Vegas job when he saw my name next on the list. He's been watching me all this time, waiting for me. I need to know why."

"You're not making any sense. Why now? What happened?"

"My Pip-Boy picked up another radio signal."

"No. No, that's it, we're going back."

"This isn't the Sierra Madre, Sunny, I'm not running away this time. I have to face this before I can ever go back to New Vegas, before I can even think about leading the Mojave. I have to face what I did to those people, face the person who followed me all the way to Hoover Dam."

"Like me?" She snapped. "Like Veronica, Christine, Cass, Arcade? Those are the people who followed you to the Dam, except these people risked their lives to fight by your side instead of scribbling cryptic messages on walls! But you're just going to abandon them for a man who wants you dead?"

"You don't understand-"

"What could I possibly not understand about this?! Do you think that man's going to let you walk away, after all you did? You think he went through all the trouble of tracking you down, following your movements, just to give you a piece of his mind? I know you think that facing him is going to help you, that it's going to 'bring an ending to things', but what does that matter if you never make it back home?!"

Brianna wrapped her arms around her and kissed Sunny Smiles with everything she had. She swore to herself that no matter what happened, she would remember every detail of this kiss. She would remember the supple leather of her old armour, the softness of her hair between her fingers, the hunger and sadness behind her eyes as she said a million silent I-love-yous to the woman who had brought her all this way.

"I'm coming home," she promised. "I love you. I love you, and I love the Mojave, and out there is everything I've ever wanted in the world. But I have to face this. Because The Divide was someone else's Mojave. It was someone else's hopes and dreams. I took all that away and I never faced up to what I did. And I can't, I _can't _move on from the heartless monster I was before, not until I see what I did. This is an ending, Sunny. Before the battle, before-" She took a deep breath. "You were getting ready for bed. Arcade and I, we stayed up a while, he helped me flesh out the plan a little better. He told me we were starting a new chapter in history. But I can't do that until I finish the old one."

"Don't go," she sobbed into Brianna's shoulder. "If you think you have to, fine, okay, but just wait until- I don't know, just wait. Think about this, please. _Please. _I want to help Freeside, help the Followers, help Christine get better. Helping people is everything I want to do, but I'd feel lost without you at my side. I love you. And if you never came back from that place, I don't know what I'd do."

"I'm coming back," she laughed, but the assurance was empty. "I'm coming back."

* * *

><p><em>"This is your road. When you walk it, you'll walk it alone."<em>


	60. Sand and Stone

Brianna O'Reilly tore her way through the storm-tossed destruction of The Divide. The canyon snaked on for endless miles, the walls threatening to close in around her and swallow the dying light. She fought through the wreckage, and the wreckage fought back, sinking its metal teeth into her flesh. Streams of blood formed trailing networks along the valleys of her arms, but still she carried on. When mountains of rubble reared up like angry beasts to block her path, she snarled and screamed and showed the wasteland what a real monster was - ferocious and finite with enough fury to turn cracked nails into claws, trembling hands into talons. The monsters yielded after a time, but the demons in her head still danced.

_I left everything behind for a lifeless ruin. I left behind love and hope and the promise of a future, and for what? For what? When did I start finding metaphors in blood and battle? When did a trail of pointless destruction become some fabled ending to things? When did the battlefield become the pages of a book, and why couldn't I see another chapter in the city I fought for? Coward. Coward, coward, fucking shards of metal and glass, is that all my ending comes down to? I can't keep going. I can't go back. I can't redeem the sins of New Vegas until I redeem myself. Sunny. The sky is so bright. I can't see. It hurts. It hurts, God, it hurts. She's waiting for me to come home. Where is home? What's waiting for me here, what will I find? I can't go back now. I have to know. I have to see it._

_Hopeville._

The horizon burned through the dark canyon walls. She stumbled towards it, legs buckling beneath her as she reached the edge of the clifftop. She fell to her knees, her nails carving deep wounds into the rock as she stared into the abyss. It stared back. The ruin stretched on for miles and miles, an endless path of stony desolation waiting past the sheer drop below. Silhouettes were dashed across the horizon like cigarette ash on skin, a twisted mockery of the once tall, once proud buildings that had stood long before. The sky was obscured by a thick haze of smoke and ash, filling up her aching lungs before returning once more to the wind as she howled, an agonised cry so loud that it challenged the storm itself. She became the storm, hopeless and angry and howling on and on when there was no one left to hear the last building in this wasteland fall, no one left to know the destruction she had caused, or to taste the sweet tranquillity of silence when nature left this place to rot.

"I did this. I did this. This is all my fault."

* * *

><p>The bunker was her only way forward, nestled deep in the mountain. She had to cross an unsteady bridge of scrap and shimmy her way across the mountain's crumbling edge, but the cliff bore no ladder or footholds that would help her down. The metal walls were marked with angry crimson scrawls, painting images behind her eyes of the battlefield where she'd found the very same words written. The place was as alive as she was, crackling with electricity from the busted wires overhead. Some hidden technology sensed her presence, opening every door she reached to reveal only busted terminals and encrypted control panels with streams of data flashing on their screens. Using the only functional computer, Brianna tried to access a number of locks and systems, only to find herself locked out of every one of them due to some kind of power failure.<p>

The only way onwards was through a door marked 'Utility Room'. It too was a mess of broken electronics, but this place was different from the room behind her. A large cylindrical tube stood on a raised platform to her right, buzzing with the energy of the yellow light within it. She recognised the strange contraption from an old science facility in DC. She didn't know its name, but they were supposed to hold robots. Taking a few steps towards it, she found that this one did. An Eye-Bot, roughly the size of a football, without any discernible features aside from its combat inhibitor and various antennae. After a moment of thought, she tapped into the wall-mounted terminal and opened the chamber.

"I better not hear Eden's voice coming out of you."

The machine came to life with a hiss of steam, the door creaking open as its mechanical arms released the tiny robot. Brianna stumbled back as she was blinded by a flash of blue light. When her vision returned, she saw the Eye-Bot floating out from its confines, a bubbly electronic tune playing from its speakers while it drifted merrily from side to side.

_"Go on, Ralphie! Fly far, fly fast!"_

"Nice to meet you too," she replied, looking the Eye-Bot up and down. "Think you can help me get out of here?"

The robot beeped happily.

_"Experiment log 369248/B - Eye-Bot Duraframe universal interface override system. This is Doctor Whitley presiding. We've boosted the signal and enlarged the overflow buffer system. That should ensure one hundred percent connectivity and control. ED-E, when you're ready... Yes, success!" _The stranger cleared his throat. _"Um, reporting full success on 369248/B. ED-E was able to interface with and override the test panel in under three seconds. Great job, team. Now let's start on the proposal for the full rollout."_

"Who was that?" She asked. "Your creator?"

ED-E gave another beep, drifting slowly backwards.

"Does that mean you can override electronic security?"

He beeped again.

"This is gonna be a difficult relationship, isn't it?"

He gave an electronic chirp of agreement.

"Alright. Let's keep going."

With a cheerful blast of music, ED-E floated off through the door she had entered from, towards a strange piece of equipment that was built into the wall. Brianna followed without complaint, watching as the eager robot promptly rammed himself into the gadget. He released a crackle of sparks into the open sockets before gliding back and giving her an expectant beep.

"Thanks," she said with a breath of laughter, stepping towards the device.

"HELLO!" Came an automated male voice. "WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES ARMED SERVICES JOINT AUTOMATED COMMISSARY AND REPAIR STATION."

She glanced at the robot for some indication as to how she should proceed. The robot nudged towards the commissary and beeped pointedly.

"Uh." She leaned into the machine. "Access commissary."

The commissary's stock flashed in front her, a bottle-green holographic screen with the machine's contents displayed in yellow. "Not bad," she mumbled, scrolling through the various sections to see what this thing held. There was the basic stock of chems - Med-X, stimpaks and RadAway - as well as a good selection of ammo. It offered weapon upgrades like tri-laser splitters and extended magazines that were well out of her price range, along with an impressive range of high quality armour. "Ammo belt," she listed, "five stimpaks, 5.56mm ammo, 10mm ammo, and you know what? Throw in the riot gear and some pods of blue, red and white paint."

ED-E gave an astonished beep after she'd finished with the armour, painting her new flag on its back. After she'd finished changing, the excitable robot whizzed around her head with what must have been delight. "What the hell is your problem?" She demanded, following with a sigh of exasperation as he led her back to the utility room. He ushered her up the steps to the robot pod and nudged his body against the glass. When she saw her reflection, she understood.

The riot gear looked incredible. A brown leather trench coat with built-in shoulder pads was worn over plain black trousers and heavy-plated armour for her torso. She'd stocked the new ammo belt and secured it over her chest, attaching the necessary pouches to her utility belt before lacing up her boots. The helmet was light and comfortable, filtering and cooling the outside air. Its eyes were red and dark, glinting beneath the crackling electricity on the ceiling.

"You're right, ED-E. Looks good."

* * *

><p>She followed ED-E back into the previous room, letting the eager little robot get to work on the control panel. After a few moments of zapping it, the overhead lights flickered to life as a panel raised from the wall. The sight beyond the previously concealed window knocked the breath from Brianna's lungs.<p>

"ED-E, what is that? Is that a rocket?"

That was the only word she could find to describe it, other than 'gargantuan' and 'terrifying'. It looked like some kind of space rocket, like the ones she'd seen in posters, but she suspected that this thing had a far more sinister purpose than blasting off to the moon. A number of Eye-Bots flitted about it, drilling into the sides and zapping at exposed wires. ED-E gave a distressed beep, seeming to gesture towards the door ahead. A quick nudge of his metal body against it made the door click open. She followed him through it, eyeing the rocket warily as they headed up the steps.

_"Dr. Grant? __What do you think you're doing?"_

_"Ah, Whitley," _replied a feminine voice, _"there you are. Orders from Colonel Autumn. He feels the Eye-Bot Duraframe project isn't advancing quickly enough. I'm to-"_

_"No, stop! You didn't even disengage his damage-avoidance protocols! __You're hurting him!"_

_"Oh, don't be ridiculous, it's just a machine. See here, I've already increased the navigation system's efficiency by sixty-five percent."_

_"Get the hell out of here!"_

_"Fine, fine, Whitley. It's your lab. At least until I tell the Colonel about this."_

"Colonel Autumn?" Brianna's breath hitched in her throat. "I know him. Your creator, Whitley, was he Enclave?"

ED-E's next beep sounded like confirmation.

"You're an Enclave robot. Just like the ones from the Capital, right?" She shook her head in dismissal. "Forget it. Doesn't matter. Sounded like he really cared about you."

A sad beep.

"And that Dr. Grant bitch sounds like a war crime waiting to happen."

Then an angrier one as the tiny robot buzzed furiously.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

ED-E sank down a little lower, meeting her height.

"Hey, it's fine. I would have ripped her a new one if I met her, I promise."

He gave a beep that almost sounded like laughter, but died down into melancholy as they moved further up the metal steps ahead of them. The rocket - or whatever it was - was as tall as the building itself, stretching up past every floor. ED-E beeped nervously as they grew closer to it, taking the metal walkway around the gigantic object until they reached the opposite side of the room, next to a door with a sign that read 'Operations'.

They stepped inside and into a hail of bullets.

She had no time to react. She ducked behind the desk in the centre of the room, fumbling for her semi-automatic as the wall behind her was riddled with bullets. _Sentry Bot. _She aimed her pistol over the desk and fired a blind round over it while ED-E zapped at the hostile robot. Brianna bounced to her feet as the Sentry Bot fired a spray of bullets into ED-E's tiny body. He zipped around the room impossibly fast, but the Bot's aim was perfect. She only had a few seconds before her new friend was reduced to a sad lump of scrap metal.

She thought quickly, grabbing one of the busted terminals from the floor and hurling it at the robot's head. It left a satisfying dent while ED-E whirled in behind and fried the Sentry Bot's electrical components with a spark of electricity. Giving a triumphant beep, the Eye-Bot spun in a wide circle around the broken enemy before flying off in the direction of the stairs ahead. The flickering sign above the door read 'Storage Room'.

As it turned out, the storage room stored corpses.

The first had been speared into the wall by a metal pipe, much to ED-E's audible dismay. Another lay collapsed over a defeated Sentry Bot, limbs snapped at impossible angles. One was stuffed inside a fallen locker, another draped over the top of it. A sign nailed into the corpse's chest read NO PARKING ANY TIME. But it wasn't the strange road signs that horrified her. It was the skin they were nailed to. Or their lack of it, she found, inspecting the speared corpse closely. Its flesh was red and raw, but this was different than the gradual degradation of a ghoul's poisoned body. The corpse was sticky with congealed blood, as if something had peeled the skin right from him.

_Let the storms tear at her skin. Let her see The Divide. See what happened._

They passed through that room quickly, stepping out onto the next level of the stairway. This time Brianna could get a closer look at the r-

The world was swallowed by a wave of fire.

She threw herself back as another missile exploded against the wall. ED-E was on the Sentry Bot as soon as the air cleared. Brianna readied her pistol. The robot stood by a door on the opposite side of the rocket, steadily firing bullets at the angry Eye-Bot. A few swift blasts to the face from Brianna's semi-auto was enough to knock it back, until a lucky shot to its combat inhibitor finished it off.

The door beyond it was marked with a sign reading 'Security'. Deactivated Sentry Bots were visible beyond the windows on either side of the room beyond, along with a rounded desk and a terminal. A corpse was slumped over the swivel chair it sat on. This time she was certain it was a ghoul. With its sickly yellow skin and straw-thin hair, there was no denying it. She moved behind the desk and pushed the chair aside to make room for herself. After a few impatient clicks, she found that all she could do with the terminal was release the rest of the Sentry Bots. She decided that getting blown apart by a small army of hostile robots was the last thing she needed right now, so she moved for the body and began to pat it down. A holotape marked -security access' seemed to be the only thing they could use. ED-E ushered her towards the mainframe at the main entrance, scanning the tape with the same device that had dispensed her armour.

There was a click. A hiss. And the deafening wail of a speaker as the door opened.

It led them into a network of tunnels, where bodies were strewn across the floor and sandbags were piled high around busted tables and ammo crates. More dead soldiers had been speared into the walls. With her helmet's air filtration system she couldn't smell the corpses, but they seemed strangely preserved for people who must have died here over two hundred years ago. Even if they'd been killed by the explosion she'd caused, they would have rotted away a long time ago. Their blood stained the walls as they moved further through the tunnels, but those weren't the only red markings they saw. Not until they reached the door.

**YOU CAN GO HOME NOW, COURIER.**

* * *

><p>Hopeville had been swallowed by dust and sand, every detail of the horizon obscured by the amber haze. The buildings in the distance were nuclear silhouettes, crumbling remnants of a long-forgotten nation. She saw fallen towers, crumbling overpasses, upturned cars. The flag of Old World America waved on a leaning flagpole, a final stand against the barren desolation. She removed her helmet and stuffed it in her bag, letting the winds whip her skin, letting herself see The Divide without any obstruction. This was what had happened. This was what she'd done.<p>

_"There's your signal. Faint, but there. You came. Good. Curious, maybe." _

The baritone voice crackled through ED-E's speakers, its volume stolen by the shrieking wind.

_"You've found your flag. __Good. Can't walk the roads you've walked and not have a nation's shadow fall on you. But yours is different, isn't it? You're reclaiming the Old World. Bringing a change. Or perhaps you're bringing the Lord of Vegas his tribute. Bending the knee to Old World ghosts. Now see the road the Old World paves, if the lights of New Vegas haven't blinded your eyes. The path you follow leads to nothing but this. America sleeps ahead of you, its nightmares filled with quakes and storms. You'll have to make your own path."_

"I'll find a way," she replied, "or I'll make one. Who are you? What do you want with me?"

_"I'm a courier. Used to be Courier Six, like you. And not like you, in all the ways that matter. Spent too many years looking for you. Never thought you'd end up coming to me. After Zion, I learned what you were made of. Stronger stuff than the Mojave, certainly. So I sent you away from it as soon as I had the chance. You woke the slumbering beast of the Sierra Madre, but I orchestrated the event that opened its maw. Got the radio signal working, helped that madman find his way into those golden talons. And then I waited. Waited for you. Waited for the Mojave to break you, like I knew it would. You could say it was a back-up plan. If the Platinum Chip didn't finish you, the Madre would. But no. No, you've got lives in you, hard to kill. Storms, bullets, sand and wind, yet you still walk. For now."_

"So you're an angry puppet master who couldn't make me dance, is that it? You know, another Old World man hiding behind robots and screens tried the very same thing. His body lies buried beneath the broken city I stole from him. You made me dance right into House's clutches, and that's where I cut my strings. I don't think that was something you anticipated."

_"That Chip was supposed to end you. Your burden, to slow you down long enough for death to catch up with you. But you survived. And you became far more dangerous than that Chip ever could be."_

"That's why you stopped following me," she realised. "That's why you led me here." The thought brought a smile to her face. "You didn't plan for this. You didn't plan for House's death, the fall of the three armies. You never expected me to grow stronger. And now you have no more power over me, no more control. You can't bait me into any new trap, you can't usher me into another bloody chapter, because I lived through every horror you set up for me. This is the end of the line for us. I'll cut my way through here, in time. I'll find you. We'll have our ending to things."

_"We might. Could be that history will have its say."_

"What history? I can't face the future if I don't know the past."

_"Who are you, that you do not know your history? You came all this way for answers. If history matters to you, you'll need to earn it. Any logs of mine are lost to you, cast away into the Divide. For now, think of the present. The past is buried there, fragments of it. There are warheads waiting in Hopeville. Setting those off could help you make your path. All you need to do is find the trigger."_

"I'm sick of warheads. Sick of war."

_"But war has carved out your path from the beginning. War has made you strong enough to last this long. Maybe the Divide will break you. The road gets rougher from here, Courier. Left marks for you. They'll lead you home one more time. Lead to the ending of things. Maybe remind you why you wander."_

"This isn't my home," she whispered, knowing he was gone. "I never brought life to this place."

_Only destruction._

Brianna inhaled a deep breath, allowing herself one final moment to glance back the way she'd come. After this, she would never look back. Not until she'd found the death that awaited her beyond the mountains of rock and rubble, or the ending that would bring her home again. Until then, she wouldn't retrace a single step. No matter how desperately the Mojave called for her, she would not look back until this was done. If she looked back, it was over. If she looked back, she was lost.

With steel resolve and fists clenched tight, Courier Six left home behind and began to walk the Lonesome Road.

The path ahead was barren, bearing no signs of life that she could see. She passed the dilapidated remnants of a gas station and a collapsed billboard about America, Land of the Free. Despite the unnerving stillness, she secured her helmet and drew her axe as she neared what appeared to be some kind of army base. The weapon swung at her side while she scanned for enemies, not daring to imagine what kind of mutated horrors could be waiting for her, just out of sight. The rusted gate gave a grating hiss as she forced it open, the subsequent creaks and groans of the army barracks doing little to ease her nerves. Paranoia was lodged in her throat, choking down her breaths even as she convinced herself that there was nothing here, that there was nothing left, that the bombs had stripped this wasteland bare. But as sure as there was no rain or rule in the Mojave, there were eyes on her every step of the way.

They drew closer towards the barracks. A gate squeaked. And even though she was the only person alive down here, Brianna heard footsteps pounding towards her. She swerved, raising her axe before a had clamped down on her wrist, knocking the weapon from her grasp. There was a rattle of chains as she was thrown back against the fence, forced to stare into the face of the corpse that was clawing at her. His flesh was seared red, skeletal tissue and throbbing blue veins covered only by the thinnest layer of transparent skin. The cadaverous monster looked too gaunt and emaciated to stand, but it shook her body with terrifying strength, bony fingers grabbing at her arms and knocking her repeatedly back against the fence, fighting every attempt at escape. Its protruding jawline snapped up and down, teeth gnashing together in a way that should have been menacing. But it wasn't.

She forced herself to look closer, even as it tore off her helmet, clawed her face, pulled her hair out in clumps. When she found the dead man's eyes, she couldn't look away. They were blue. They were wide and bloodshot and brimming with tears. They were utterly and terrifyingly human. The more she looked, the more she understood that this thing wasn't trying to hurt her. In its eyes she found pleading desperation, even as it grabbed for the gun at her hip with the few torn fingers it had left. The sinewy flesh of its hands were marked with deep wounds, taking the shape of human bites. When they tightened around the grip of her pistol, the corpse stumbled back with a shriek of pain, making no further move towards her.

Brianna understood. She removed her pistol from its holster, aiming it at the corpse's head and waiting for resistance. But the dead man didn't fight. He fell to his knees, staring straight into the barrel with an intensity and longing she had never seen before. This monster wanted to die, and she was happy to oblige. When she pulled the trigger, the ringing shot almost sounded sweet.

"What was that?" She demanded when a frantic ED-E raced towards her. "I know you're watching me. Tell me what the hell that was!"

_"Mercy," _came the crackling voice through the speakers. _"That was mercy."_

"Oh, fuck your pretentious bullshit, you know that's not what I asked."

_"Marked Men, marked so deeply by the horrors of The Divide that they became one themselves. They are both the Bull and the Bear, united beneath the flag of their agony. Pain makes strange allies. Pain is all they know. The invisible fires that burned away their flesh so too scorched their sanity. What you just encountered was a rarity, a man sound enough in mind to beg for death in any way he could. You will meet others. They will not be the same. Any hatred they once shared across the battlefield has turned to The Divide and its trespassers."_

"They're more than just insane ghouls. How are they still alive?"

_"Radiation lives deep within them, allowing some form of recovery. Its the only thing keeping them walking after the winds flayed the skin from their bones. But they are more than ghouls. Another thing entirely. They're alive. They feel pain. It's what rules their very existence. You will have to put plenty of them out of their misery, and soon. So much time here, it's broken their minds, made them believe that they're guarding this place. Watch out, and be careful. They no longer understand... restraint."_

"Wonderful," she muttered, bending down to retrieve her axe. "All this to find a trigger for more fucking bombs."

The gate to her left was open, so she passed through it and hoisted herself up onto the nearest platform of rubble. The unsteady path led down towards the roof of the army barracks where two Marked Men were scanning the road below. She crept silently towards the first, ED-E hovering behind her as she buried her axe in the soldier's exposed neck. He collapsed with only a faint hiss and a thump, but the next was on her in an instant. She caught a glimpse of scorched Legion armour before the image was slashed through by the Marked Man's blade.

Brianna leaped back, tossing her axe into her left hand and grabbing for her pistol with her right. With the axe she deflected the following swipe of the crude metal blade, proceeding to punch through his midsection with three ringing shots. His legs buckled for just a moment, but the ghoul barely faltered. He returned the blow with an upwards swipe across her torso, knocking her back. She swung her axe in attempt to deter the ghoul from moving closer, her fear of tumbling off the roof overruling any thoughts of discretion. But the Marked Man held his ground. When Brianna aimed her pistol at his head, he sidestepped with alarming ease and brought his blade down on her outstretched arm. The pain crackled like lightning through her veins as the sword severed through leather, then metal, then flesh. Her finger jerked on the trigger, but her grip was weak on the pistol and the shot went wide. She cried for her robot, but the Eye-Bot was nowhere to be found. She heard only the sound of firing lasers from down below, promising more enemies to come.

With a groan of pain and effort, she let her pistol clatter to the ground, swinging her axe with both hands in the direction of the ghoul's face. She dodged the incoming sweep of his blade, knocking the Marked Man off-balance with a blow to the head from the blunt end of her axe. She sent him down with a deep cut to his right knee before finishing him off with a downward slice through his skull.

Following the sound of gunfire, Brianna retrieved her gun and leapt onto the ruined building below the barracks. She ducked down against the parapet, frantically tearing off her jacket to inspect the damage on her arm. The wound was stinging like she'd slathered it in honey and left it out for the cazadors, but her medical kit was bursting with stimpaks. She jammed one into her neck, wincing at the sensation of cold metal lodged in her vein, before gathering up her things and peering over the short fragment of wall that still remained of the building's upper floor. For a second there was nothing but the empty streets. Then her vision was swallowed up by an oncoming torrent of lasers.

"Shit!" She hissed, ducking back down and readying her rifle. She wedged the weapon into a groove in the crumbling wall, peering through her scope in search of her attackers. She found them occupying one of the taller buildings across the street, its left side almost entirely collapsed. Nothing was left of the third floor aside from a makeshift alcove where the rightmost wall was still partially standing. The Marked Man who crouched there was using it as a sniper nest, but his weapon was large and bulky, supported by his right shoulder. Some kind of rocket launcher, she guessed, before her attention was grabbed by the tiny robot floating at the corner of her vision. ED-E was whizzing around the first floor, zapping electricity into an NCR soldier with a tri-beam laser rifle.

"No problem," she mumbled, hovering the crosshair over the torso of the ghoul with the rocket launcher. She fired, the rifle bucking against her shoulder as she shredded the Marked Man's torso. He twisted grotesquely in a feeble attempt to avoid the hail of bullets. After another few seconds he was tumbling off the building, falling to the ground in a broken heap. By the time she'd lined up her next shot, the soldier with the laser rifle was dead, and ED-E was waiting patiently for his new friend to catch up.

As Brianna made her way down from the building, the energetic little robot rushed to meet her. ED-E made a quick circle around her head before whizzing off back into the building, as if urging her to follow. She did, ascending unsteadily up the collapsed staircase. The Eye-Bot floated right up to the third floor, to the sniper's nest, leaving her behind to climb up through the gaping hole that had been blown through the place.

"What is it I'm looking for here?" She asked, seeing only a number of busted crates and- "Oh, a pulsing bag of flesh. Fantastic."

ED-E gave an urgent beep, moving as close as he teared to the grotesque pile of meat.

She watched the bag warily for a moment, eyeing the robot with visible distaste. "Is the warhead trigger in there?"

An affirmative beep.

She heaved a sigh and got to her knees, hesitating for a moment before she shoved her hand in. The bag's sloshing was enough to make her heave as she felt around for something pistol-shaped. Instead she found the thick outer layers of hearts and lumps of muscle as well as something long and squirming that she hoped to hell was just part of an intestine, until finally her hand backed up into a wet heap of entrails where she finally found what she was looking for. Her blood soaked arm pulled out of the wretched mass holding something hard and plastic. It reminded her of the trigger she'd used to raise the bomber from the lake, a simple gadget with only a red trigger to activate it.

"Looks like that's it." She raised her arm, searching through her Pip-Boy map. "There's a collapsed overpass not far from here, looks like the only way out. Are you ready?"

Her new friend gave an excitable beep.

* * *

><p><em>"Impressive," <em>he mused, as the explosion burned through the sky, _"for a brute mercenary. But she lacks something. Not drive. Plenty of that. Not courage. Not resourcefulness. Focus, perhaps. Or integrity. Not sure what the right word is. Says she's tired of war, but her body tells other stories. Lost so much to explosions, but she smiles at the sight of them. Direction. That's what she's missing. Doesn't know what she wants. Wouldn't be here if she did. She's built as I am, from sand and stone. The lights and luxury of Vegas won't blind her. She won't stay long enough to let them. She wasn't built for that place and she knows it. But she wants to do good. But she doesn't want to stop killing. Can't make up her mind. Doesn't matter. History will know her as a message, like the ones she used to carry. A symbol. She'll be carried on through the actions of others, certainly. Courier Six will never die. But this woman will. Brianna O'Reilly." _He tasted the words, rolled them across his tongue. He loathed the bitter taste. _"She'll die in this place. Her history is written in the rubble, and that's where it'll be buried."_


	61. History

**LOCATION_UNKNOWN**

**JANUARY 13**

**17:32**

_"I can't believe it! Grant actually went to Colonel Autumn and got approval for her damned 'efficiency guidelines'! All experiments will be carried out with the subject fully active, to reduce iteration time. It's completely barbaric!"_

"Can we not do this now, ED-E?" Brianna hissed, rifle at the ready as they crept through the tunnel. Her Pip-Boy was detecting no signs of life here, but her faith in the glitching pre-war device was quickly dying. Occasionally she would spot a sudden flash of red on her map, marking the presence of an enemy. She would aim her rifle frantically at the rubble, only to find that the mark was gone, and her health bars had depleted to zero. The time and date changed every few minutes, leaving her with no idea of how long she'd been navigating through here. The Pip-Boy had become her most reliable friend in the wasteland, for keeping track of her equipment and making sure she knew where she was going. Now it was useless, and every time its lights flared up it revealed, just for a moment, a snarling monster looming in the dark. Every distant creak became the movements of some unseen creature lurking in the shadows, and every step further from the canyon became another step into terror-fuelled insanity.

_This place was never asleep. __It's been waiting for me._

_"I explained this to the Colonel - just because the Eye-Bots don't have true AI doesn't mean they're just machines! I guess results are all that matter around here, never mind 'ethical procedures' or 'humane treatment'. I'm starting to have serious misgivings about leadership around here. At least I still have you to talk to, huh, ED-E?"_

"That's enough, robot."

ED-E gave a low beep.

"I know, I know. You can tell me all about Whitley later, I pr-" The words caught in her throat. "Was that-? Did you see that?"

It was just there, illuminated by the dying light of a fallen lantern. Just a shadow, just a blur, just a flicker of movement before it was gone around the corner.

"It wasn't a deathclaw, right, ED-E?" She whispered, not daring to take another step until she was sure that the long, spiked tail had been a figment of her imagination. There was nothing here, she told herself, not daring to believe the hopeless lie as she continued onward. "It was just a shadow. Just a trick of the light. It wasn't a deathclaw. It wasn't a deathclaw." And if it was, she'd be better off using the rifle on herself. She'd encountered deathclaws once, only once. That story about Red Lucy and the fighting pits, that ridiculous tale that only Sunny pretended to believe, it was bullshit. Her drug-addled mind had added the swiping claws and razor-sharp teeth to the much less deadly reality: three mole rat pups who resisted her pistol with only a few high-pitched squeaks. Her first encounter, her only real encounter, hadn't even been a fight at all. She'd ran for her goddamn life without a second of-

Something cracked beneath her foot.

A piece of glass. A crumpled can. She couldn't see. It didn't matter. The noise was loud. The world was quiet. It was dark, so dark. And she was all alone.

Or she had been.

The first low hiss could have been the wind up above. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her grip on the rifle tightened. It could have been the air from ED-E's vents. It could have been nothing, nothing at all. Then the second came, and it was all she knew. Undeniable. Unmistakable. Right behind her. She wouldn't open her eyes. The creatures tail swept across the ground. Claws scratched against stone. Its breath, hot and heavy, was warming her cheek. She released a terrified whimper as the creature leaned closer, taking a deep sniff. She heard the loud, crisp _snap _of teeth.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks, legs buckling beneath her as she waited for the bite that would end it all. She envisioned long incisors burying themselves in her neck, tremendous claws tossing her against the rubble like some child's ragdoll as tapered claws dragged across her back. But the bite never came and the blow never followed. She heard a guttural growl from somewhere in the distance, followed by the sound of movement as the deathclaw abandoned its prey. When she opened her eyes, she was alone again with her terrified robot. ED-E's frantic buzzing mimicked human trembling as he floated around her head, making sure that his new partner was okay.

"What the hell was that?" She gasped when her voice returned to her. "Where did that thing go?"

She soon found out. After a few minutes of breathing slowly in an attempt to calm her nerves, she made her way into a more open stretch of ruin, where cracks in the concrete above allowed a small amount of light to pass through. With frantic eyes and a rapidly beating heart, she found her deathclaw in the hollowed-out remains of a large cargo container. She found it dead.

"That's not possible," she breathed, turning in a slow circle and aiming her rifle at the air. "This isn't happening, this isn't-"

Her sights locked on something just ahead. Only a few metres away, it passed by like it hadn't even noticed her presence. A sliver of light from above revealed its gleaming dark scales and the chitinous spikes that protruded from its head and shoulders. Large, bioluminescent eyes illuminated the darkness of the tunnel, casting blue light upon its gaze. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, only to be replaced by another that dug its way out of the rubble. And another, emerging from behind her. The mutated abominations were digging themselves out of the dirt, finally taking notice of this trembling stranger with the robot companion. Heads cocked, they studied her with what must have been curiosity. Until the largest of them all, thick-skinned and hulking, with mandibles that dripped inky venom, reared to its full quadrupedal height and released a predatory shriek.

They lunged.

ED-E whizzed into action with a burst of battle music, zapping lasers at the venomous horde. If the red-hot beams were damaging them in any way, the tunnel dwellers showed no sign of it. Brianna knocked one aside with the butt of her rifle, leaving it to be trampled by its oncoming brethren. She unleashed a spray of bullets into the swarm, keeping the creatures momentarily at bay while she reloaded. It didn't take long for her to realise that the monsters weren't injured at all. They were recoiling at the noisy chattering of the gun, advancing upon her once more as soon as the weapon ceased firing. They were jumping for her face, trying to scratch at her eyes, spitting angrily when they couldn't reach beyond the protective metal of her helmet. There were too many. They were climbing out of the dirt, crawling across the walls like hulking reptilian insects. A few rounds to the head put too few of them down. It wasn't enough. A hundred luminescent eyes were staring down at her, daring her to run.

She did. She ran with all her might, boots pelting against the rubble as she searched desperately for an exit. ED-E raced alongside her, still firing lasers at the hissing swarm that chased her. Her lungs burned. Hadn't she passed this car wreckage before? Her muscles ached. Hadn't she passed beneath this crack of light, this mangled body, this faded billboard? She was going the wrong way. This was the same lantern that had revealed the deathclaw's snaking tail. She was going the wrong way. She didn't care. She wanted out. She couldn't go back. If she looked back, it was over. If she looked back, she was lost.

The ground rushed to meet her. Something slammed against the side of her head. A heavy weight was immobilising her, pressing down on her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't open her eyes. She wouldn't. Because she knew that a pair of glowing blue eyes would be staring right back at her. The triumphant hiss was swallowed by the sound of her screaming as teeth sank down into her gloved hands, into her flailing legs, deep into her neck, injecting her veins with liquid fire. With desperate strength, she threw the creature off her and turned her prone body around, uselessly trying to crawl her way to safety. Sharp talons cut through her armour and drilled deep holes into her back. The monsters dragged her into the darkness as she scraped at the dirt, grasping for purchase. She found nothing. Nothing but the fallen lantern that flickered just ahead. Just within her grasp.

Her fingers closed around it. With a groan of effort, she tossed the lantern behind her, hearing it shatter before a chorus of shrieks swelled in the tunnel. She scrambled to her feet as the creatures abandoned their prey, opting instead to leap back and scurry away from the struggling flame. She didn't waste another second before stumbling back from the terrified horde and running at full pelt for daylight.

* * *

><p><em>"Tunnelers. Predators that make their own roads beneath the ground here. The Divide broke their sky, showed them the world above. And the scent of new prey. Be a slower death for the Mojave than bombs and fire, but both are just as certain."<em>

"Those things," Brianna began, raising her ragged voice to be heard over the howling of the wind, "they're coming for the Mojave? How do you know?"

_"They breed fast, hunt in groups, hunger for the blood that waits beyond their walls of rubble. They'll come. Might be years. Probably less._ _Their tunnels will continue to grow. Their presence will span the distance of The Divide until they know, well and truly, that it is barren. That's when they'll move for newer horizons. Like men, they'll follow the lights of New Vegas like cattle to the slaughter. But it will be the promise of blood and flesh that draws them, and the Mojave will never expect it. They'll strike from below, while their prey will be looking to the sky."_

She swallowed, tasting blood in her mouth. "New Vegas is my city, and it survived the end of the world. I'll protect it."

_"That's interesting. Even after everything, you still can't call that place your home. Might be I know you better than you know yourself, Courier. When that city crumbles - and it will, in time - you will leave it behind and never look back. You might not be the first to abandon it. Fighting is in your nature, regardless of cause, or lack thereof. But going down with your ship is unthinkable. Some might call you a coward. Not me. The Mojave gave you something to live for. Something to die for. But that city, that broken place, that isn't it. Don't know what it is that drives you, Courier. Maybe you don't either. Doesn't matter. The lights of New Vegas are far away. The High Road, that's what should concern you now."_

"I've never walked this road before, no matter what you think. Where does it lead?"

_"Home. Or it did. You walked this same direction before, just a different place with a different name. Your road was called The Divide as well. A supply line from the West, leading into the Mojave. It took a courier to make that road, a courier with eyes facing East. This time, she'll be walking in the other direction. This time, she'll be walking into The Divide. And if your eyes try to make sense of it when you reach it... home's not what it was."_

"This isn't my home," she insisted. "Why do you keep calling it that?"

_"Home isn't where you're born into this world. You taught me that. Can be a place of mind, a moment where you know who you are. It can be a place you breathe life into. Never would have known The Divide if it wasn't for you. You paved this road with your tracks. You were the only one willing to make the journey to and from here. It was a hard road, unforgiving. But you'd known worse. I followed your footsteps to the Capital Wasteland, learned your history from the people who raised you. From the city of Megaton. From the doctors of the city built on the sea."_

"You talked to my parents?" Her voice cracked at the word. Slowly, she began to walk. ED-E followed. "What-? What did they say?"

_"That they were proud of the fighter they raised. That they knew how you yearned for the mystery of the wasteland, how it called to you. They knew you would call back to it one day, and so you did. They'd been ready for your departure long before you left. I told them all I knew of you, how you'd brought life to Zion Valley, how you'd found a strange sort of home in the Mojave. I knew your present; they knew your history. We traded."_

"They didn't know you knew my future as well. How could you sit there, knowing that you were going to kill me?"

_"Easily. It was fascinating, hearing about you from the people who thought they knew you best. I knew your story from the marks you left on pavements, knew your history from the deliveries you made. This was the first time I could ask questions, talk to people who knew your face. From there, I began to understand how you acted and why. Fighting for Zion, that was more than just a job. You wept for that place, you learned your religion. You worshipped the sky and the earth; the world became your shrine. The Mojave was no different. You gave everything to that place, left traces of yourself in every corner of it. You braved its sandstorms because you found yourself within them, not because you wanted a handful of caps at the end of a few gruelling days. When you took the High Road, it can't have been just a job. It was something more for you. Don't feel for a place that hard unless it's home."_

"That place was a civilisation taking its first breaths. Just opening its eyes. It had no scars, no history, it was something pure. Giving just a little bit of myself to it gave me all the pride in the world. But I never thought it was anything more than that. I never thought that something so good, so innocent, had any place for me. I was just a courier. Those people didn't know me, I wasn't a face or a voice or any kind of opinion. I was just legs that braved the road they couldn't face, just hands that brought the what they needed. The deliveries were what was important. I meant nothing."

_"You meant everything. It was you walking that road that kept The Divide alive. You were the heart of it; it grew from what you did. And you're right. It was pure. Chance for a new generation, a new nation, a new beginning. New way of thinking. But the Bear staked it claim, wanted or not. The NCR saw worth in the road you made. And where the Bear tried to cling to life, the Legion comes bearing messages. Some brought by the blade, others by couriers. You knew what was coming, as sure as I know what's coming for you. You distanced yourself. Couldn't take on an army. Certainly couldn't take on two."_

"Funny how that changed."

_"Yes, it is. Tell me, Courier, what happened? The details of your story got lost the more I followed you. After you killed Mr. House, things became less clear."_

"You can't go to my home, talk to my family, without even calling me by my name. I'm Brianna O'Reilly."

_"I'm Ulysses. Good to finally meet you."_

"Was that humour? I'm impressed. Look, you don't need to know what happened. I won. Isn't that all that matters?" She sighed. "Not to you, though. If New Vegas is my vice, history's yours. I'll tell you the details, but only because this road goes on for miles. Think I started to forget the loneliness of this job. The quiet. But first, tell me what I'll find at the end of the High Road. The future concerns me more than the past. Where can I find you?"

_"You'll know when you find it. For now, walk west into the sun and keep walking until it dies. There - I'll be waiting."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: To the Guest in the comments section, you're talking to a fourteen-year-old writer with no prior writing experience other than everything she's taught herself, so cut me a little slack. Constructive criticism is the only way this story is going to improve, and telling me that I should have given up isn't going to help me or anyone else. I'm sorry that your life is so dull that you have so much time to spend on reading a story you don't even like just so you can insult me, and I'm sorry that you aren't brave enough to use your own account name to talk to a teenager. That's really unfortunate for you. <strong>


	62. Monsters

**NEW VEGAS**

**DECEMBER 25**

**07:03**

_"I'll be honest, when I heard about you waltzing back into that bear trap, I thought it would mark the end of your history. Thought the neon lights would blind your eyes. Thought it would be Mr. House's footsteps on the roads you walked. You did a good thing getting rid of him. House took a shovel to history's graves, propped up dead men and dressed them in New Vegas finery. Not a world I want to be a part of, going through motions until we're all smiling faces on a robot's screen."_

"Maybe if circumstances had been different, we would have fought side-by-side. Guess it doesn't matter now."

_"Maybe it matters more than you think."_

A beep. A whir.

_"All due respect, sir, I think you're making a mistake. We're close to a breakthrough with the Duraframe Eyebots, I can feel it! Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I understand that we need Duraframe assets for- y- yes, sir. No, sir, I- Yes, sir, I understand, sir. I'll tell them to start disassembling the prototypes right away. Hold on, who's there? ED-E, you little rascal. Were you eavesdropping again? I think those videos you watch are a bad influence on you. How much of that did you hear? __Yeah, I thought so. Hey, didn't Dr. Grant say she'd upgraded your navigational systems? I think I have an idea. How would you like to be just like RALPHIE?"_

"ED-E and Whitley, tearing down the system from the inside," she praised. "I think I'd like him."

A happy bleep.

"Alright, alright, we can talk for a while. There's no one here, right? Don't look so sad - that's a good thing. I lost my rifle back in those tunnels. Will we run into them again, is that what you're asking? I wish I could say no. Hey, don't worry about it. We got away, right? Let's just steer clear of dark places from now on. What? No, ED-E, I don't wanna hear your recordings of human mating calls, that's just- Look out!"

A small, round object winked into existence, burning a black hole in the pale orange sky. Brianna reached for ED-E, hugging the robot against her chest as she kicked into a run. ED-E buzzed frantically in her grip as her boots slammed against the road. The world behind her flashed out of existence, lost to a clap of thunder and a torrent of flame. The explosion missed her by an inch, leaving only a wave of heat and a shudder of energy behind to mark her. The Eye-Bot in her arms wriggled free and zoomed into action. She saw the Marked Man racing across the bridge to meet them. Brianna reached for the laser detonator at her thigh, pelting across the road to meet her attacker in the middle. She concentrated the crimson beam on the live grenade in the soldier's hand. It leapt in his palm, buzzing with a frenzied energy until the quaking atoms tore themselves to pieces in a glorious shower of sparks.

The first dead soldier marked only the beginning of an onslaught.

She tore a grenade off her belt and hurled it across the bridge, watching it spin, watching it fall. The following bang didn't signify the end. It was followed by an almighty explosion to her right, another to her left as she was bombarded by an unabating spate of projectiles. She caught sight of a Marked Man with a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher and seared flesh that fell in strips off his skull, revealing one empty eye socket and half a row of gleaming white teeth. These were dead men marching, and soon they would know peace.

She hurled another grenade while ED-E unleashed a crackle of electricity, close enough in proximity now for the jolts of lightning to do harm. She bounded into attack, grabbing his free arm and bending it back. He struggled against the death-tight grip, but seemed to feel nothing at all as he shook her off and aimed for her face. She ducked beneath the launcher and moved behind him, grabbing her pistol and ejecting three bullet's into the back of the solider's neck. With a triumphant grin, she stooped down to retrieve the fallen soldier's weapon. There was no need to mount it on her shoulder. It was equipped with a high-powered scope complete with enemy health bars, a motion detector, and a screen that bathed the world in scarlet. The icon to the lower right read **RED GLARE.**

Two Marked Men flanked her on either side. She squeezed down hard on the trigger, launching a projectile into the centre of the attack. The road quaked beneath her as the missile crashed into the ground, exploding into a crimson fireworks display. The dead soldiers paid no mind to their peeling flesh, steadily pumping bullets into her armour. But they were shooting at a goddamn hurricane, and Courier Six swept them into the abyss before they could turn and flee. The next bombardment of missiles knocked two of them off the bridge; the next sent another down screeching in agony and tore the arm off the only soldier left standing. The fallen limb wasn't a concern. He abandoned his machine gun and charged at her with his blade. She pulled the trigger. The hollow click didn't slow her down- it sped her up. She tossed the launcher aside, ducking beneath the sword's horizontal swipe and grabbing it by the handle, uninhibited by fear or doubt or mercy. She drove the Marked Man against a pile of rubble, pressed her knee against his groin, forced her entire weight upon him and forced the blade into his eye socket. She couldn't even feel the deep gouges in her flesh from the vice-like grip on her arms. The Marked Man jerked and slumped, left her victorious on this road which had always been hers.

Beyond the makeshift army base were two colossal buildings, cutting jagged wounds into the horizon. The first leaned perilously against the other, smashed by crushed vehicles and long segments of road. The upper floors had fallen to the ground below, blocking her path. Searching amongst the bodies, she found a lightweight machine gun and a fallen belt of ammo, which she quickly appropriated. Edging slightly closer to the crumbling buildings, she saw a fallen warhead embedded deep in the road.

And the hulking silhouette of a hunched reptilian creature.

She fumbled for the laser detonator as the deathclaw threw back its head and shrieked at the sky. She pressed down on the trigger, squaring the steady beam of the laser on the base of the explosive. She pretended that the warhead was the only thing in the world, glowing brighter and brighter until its light swallowed the shifting blur in her peripheral vision. She braced herself for the explosion.

_Three. Two._

The flames engulfed the distance, the tremendous force of the blast tearing a gaping hole through the rubble. She was deafened by the concussive boom, blind to the sight of the leaning building crumbling further into the road. A black silhouette burned a hole through the fiery backdrop. Her world was the outline of needle-sharp claws. It was a mouth full of too many teeth, dripping saliva. A blanket of silence fell upon The Divide. She heard only nervous beeping, the crackling of flames in the distance. The steady beat-beat-beat of a long, spiked tail. A grating _hiss _and the scratching of claws against the road. She was all alone here and there was a monster coming for her, a monster from the stories that used to keep her up at night, a monster that was fast approaching with blind, soulless eyes boring into her own. Her instincts screamed _run, hide, disappear _but she remained rooted to the spot.

She readied the machine gun and waited for the lunge.

The creature pelted towards her, snarling hideously as she took a few frantic steps back. When her back hit an upturned vehicle, the deathclaw lunged. She unleashed a merciless spray of bullets into its torso before side-stepping the oncoming blow, reloading as quickly as her trembling fingers would allow. The monster growled, snapping its head in her direction. It inhaled deeply, smelling her, tasting her, before rushing for her once again. Her bullets were going entirely unnoticed- she fired ceaselessly into the monster's midsection at each leap, each lunge, playing a twisted game of cat and mouse. She concentrated the next attack on its right leg in an attempt to slow the relentlessly lunging creature, but even as blood oozed from its open wounds, the deathclaw advanced.

She backed up into the middle of the road as it sought her out. ED-E zipped around its head, his electric zaps only angering the beast further. With a swipe of its claws, it sent the robot spiralling down to the ground. Brianna screamed her anger into the monster's face as it drew nearer, ready to riddle it with another cartridge of bullets.

_Click._

"Shit, shit, shit!" She yelled, throwing the useless weapon aside and diving away from the swipe of claws. She stumbled, backing up against the barrier that marked the edge of the road. It was too late to move, too late to make an attempt at escape. She looked up to see the flash of a lunging claw.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If anyone's interested in the playlist that inspired Brianna O'Reilly, you can find it on 8tracks under the username Allegrettos. At some point a Sunny x Brianna one will be released as well. After this story's over - soon! - I'll release the playlist for the full story. These are mostly just for my own use and inspiration, but if anyone wants to listen to them, that would be cool.<strong>

**If you're wondering where the prologue went, I got an impulsive notion of 'fuck this chapter I hate it' and deleted it. So... that's that.**


	63. Claws of the Horde

**CAMPANAS DEL SOL**

**AUGUST 24**

**06:21**

_"It's okay to be afraid, baby girl."_

She screamed at the sky until her throat was raw.

_"No one ever stops being scared of the monsters under their beds."_

Three steel talons cut through metal, skin, muscle, pinning her against the barrier.

_"Especially when those monsters live right outside the door."_

The next swipe scored through her helmet and into her flesh but she refused to shut her eyes.

_"But God gave me a hurricane of a girl."_

She reached for her axe with her free arm as the deathclaw dug his claws deeper into the other.

_"A hurricane don't flinch. A hurricane don't fall when someone throws rocks at it. A hurricane don't cower when someone goes 'boo'."_

She ducked beneath the next blow and swung with all her might, burying the axe deep in the monster's back.

_"So you go out there and you show the wasteland what Brianna O'Reilly is made of."_

She swung again. Again. Again. She heard the creature's howls and matched them with her own. Again. Again. She felt it shudder and go limp as she severed its spine, sliced through the back of its neck, through the side of its head. She dropped the weapon and pulled the talons from her arm, let the monster fall aside and bleed as she collapsed against the barrier.

_"Don't you come home until every sinner in this goddamn place knows your name."_

Her vision was blurring. Someone was roaring in her ears. A cry of pain. An electric chirp.

_"But come home, baby. The wasteland changes people - it'll change you too. But I'll always know my baby girl when she comes runnin' through my door."_

She detached the metal gauntlet on her left arm. With gritted teeth and eyes like fire, she looked down at the bleeding wound. The blanched skin was dripping with blood, marked by three dark, circular gouges. The pain was a hurricane all on its own, tearing through her consciousness as she rooted in her bag for supplies. ED-E floated nearby, beeping nervously as she soaked a spare tank thoroughly with water from her canteen. She cleaned the blood as best she could but it continued to flow through her fingers as she applied pressure. It took over an hour of writhing against the barrier and pressing down on the injury with a pair of boxer shorts to staunch the flow. She screamed at the wind, screamed at the road, screamed at every goddamn thing she knew until the flood of Med-X and stimpaks in her veins shushed her into dazed mumbling about Christmas mornings in the Capital Wasteland.

But eventually, she laughed. When she saw the three deep lacerations on her cheek in the reflection of her Pip-Boy, she laughed until she sobbed. She remembered being that angry girl in Goodsprings who hadn't wept with gratitude after taking her first steps into the doctor's bathroom, but instead had almost smashed her fist into her reflection after seeing the ruin that came with survival. It had taken such a ridiculous amount of time to realise that scars were the most beautiful goddamn things in the world, even when they were all you had left.

Before she could clean the wound, she began to search her Pip-Boy for some way to increase the screen's brightness. She chose the Camera option from the Miscellaneous tab and was surprised to find her own face staring back at her, with nothing else on the screen but a small circle at the bottom. Unlike Michel Angelo's camera, everything was bathed in green to match the device's background, but it was enough for her. She took advantage of the screen's new clarity, cleaning the blood from her face and admiring the prominent slashes. After injecting another stimpak and thanking the universe for their invention, she gave the camera a mischievous smile and turned herself until it showed the bleeding deathclaw and hovering eye-bot as well as her own face. ED-E gave a curious beep as she smiled for the picture and pressed the button.

It took a few more moments for her to stop appreciating the fantastic photograph and start figuring out what she could do with it. She grinned with delight when she found the option to share the image with every other Vault 21 Pip-Boy in existence. Laughing at the absurdity of it, she did just that, taking a second to add a caption.

**_GREETINGS FROM THE DIVIDE._**

* * *

><p>When she reached the centre of the road, only one Marked Man stood to oppose her. Nothing stood between them - no rubble, no shrapnel, nowhere to hide. The world was sand and wind and them, only them in the middle of the howling emptiness. He watched her silently as she moved closer, his face obscured by the sandstorm. It wasn't until she was inches away from him that the breath was stolen from her lungs, her world knocked off its axis as she stared into the face of the Monster of the East.<p>

_"Time to fill another grave, profligate."_

It was his mask, undoubtedly, though carved crudely from dented grey metal while the monstrous Legate's had been a shining bronze. She couldn't tell if this was mockery or reverence, devotion or derision, but she knew this ghost was laughing at her. The mask's dark, hollow eyes bore the same burning intensity of the demon who had killed two of her best friends. She regarded the humming chainsaw in the Marked Man's gloved hands with immediate hostility, stepping back and drawing her axe without a moment's hesitation.

_"That suicidal act was too weak to even wash the stain of your disgrace this day."_

"Futue te ipsum, exspiravit!" Brianna screamed as the chainsaw roared to life. ED-E's battle music was barely audible above the wind. She swung her axe, half-blinded by the sand. The blow sliced through the Marked Man's right arm, but he paid the bleeding injury no mind. He lunged forward, missing her torso by barely an inch as she stepped aside. Her eyebot swirled around his head, blasting it with crackling blue volts. He rushed her again, but this blow came too soon. The chainsaw ripped through her raised arm with a violent shriek of metal against metal. Before it could meet her flesh, she threw her arm back and tossed the axe with all her strength. The blade bit deep into the Marked Man's shoulder. For a second, the attack almost seemed to stumble him, but he only stepped back and revved up the growling weapon for another round.

_"Do you really think we'll make it, Arcade? We're not ready, we're not prepared. There are still factions I was supposed to meet, still people who-"_

She readied her pistol and fired six ringing shots into the sneering metal mask.

_"That look in your eyes tells me you've been ready for this battle for a long time."_

The Terror of the East roared with anger, tearing the dented mask from his seared face and tossing it aside.

_"Is that enough? Am I enough?"_

After two more shots, the Marked Man fell to his knees.

_"I know I doubted you before, but I'd like to think I know you a little better now. You might just be the best chance we have."_

She slammed her boot into his face and wrenched the chainsaw from his grip.

_"I hope you're right. I think we really have a chance."_

She raised the weapon high into the air and brought it down on the monster's skull.

_"We're starting a new chapter in mankind's bloody history. Regardless of how this battle turns out, I'll be glad to be a part of it."_

* * *

><p>"This is my road, you scaly fucks!"<p>

She embraced the oncoming swipe of claws, allowing the deathclaw to pelt towards her and lunge. She met the blow with an upwards saw into its torso. The reptilian creature shuddered in her grip and fell, leaving room for the next monster to come sprinting towards her. She silenced its deafening roar with a swift horizontal cut to the neck.

The next didn't go down as easily. The deathclaw came slamming into her from behind, knocking her to the ground before she could react. She twisted away from the downward blow of its gargantuan claws. Her chainsaw shuddered to life once more as she held it above her unprotected face, her abandoned helmet too busted and scratched to provide any further protection. The deathclaw slammed a claw downwards, ready to scratch out her eyes before its hand met the whirring metal. The creature hissed and screeched with pain as the chainsaw busted through skin and tendons. It leapt back just in time for her to jump to her feet and put it out of its agony with a finishing blow.

That was the last of her opposition. As the sandstorm swelled into its roaring climax, the remaining deathclaws skulked away in search of shelter, or went slinking down beneath the road to cower from her. Courier Six walked undisturbed, unopposed, until darkness fell upon The Divide.

* * *

><p><em>"Good, you're back on-line. Listen to me, ED-E - if you stay here, they'll dismantle you for parts. You have to go now. I've uploaded destination coordinates for our outpost in Navarro into your system. I want you to go to the Enclave there, okay? Do you understand me? It's going to be a very long journey, buddy. You'll have to fly very far, and fly very fast. Can you do that? I know you can, pal. Be careful out there, ED-E. Maybe we'll see each other again some day."<em>

"Navarro's a long way from home for you, isn't it? I bet Whitley's really proud that you made it this far."

She didn't respond to the robot's hopeful beeping. As they reached Ashton Missile Silo, a thought occurred to her. She'd killed a lot of Enclave back in DC during the raid of Project Purity, but they hadn't just been soldiers. Plenty of doctors, scientists, engineers had died there as well, most by her hand. She would never bring this up to the cheery little robot, but something in her gut told her that even if Whitley had made it out of there alive... She swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering the explosion. Every base in the Capital Wasteland had been blown sky-high. Navarro had been taken over by the NCR some time ago. If ED-E ever made it to the base, he would find it long gone.

* * *

><p>As soon as the door shut behind them, she knew something was wrong. They weren't in the silo, not yet - this was some kind of operating room, with busted electrical wires hanging from the ceiling like entrails. The place shuddered like a beast stirring from slumber - the crackling of electricity above her wasn't loud enough to drown out the faint, animalistic <em>hiss <em>coming from somewhere unseen. Her footsteps resounded through the building as she stepped through the metal gates and onto the platform ahead. Beyond her was a steep downwards slope. This was some kind of lift, she realised, releasing a nervous, unsteady laugh. This was the only way onwards, she knew. But just as surely as Rose of Sharon Cassidy knew when a storm was coming, as surely as her mother knew when a man was reaching for his gun and not a cigarette, Brianna knew that she was being watched.

As she grabbed the activation lever and pulled it downwards, she felt an icy lurch of dread, like she knew exactly what the watching eyes belonged to.

It happened in an instant. The lift screeched into action. A flashbulb went off, bathing the darkness in piercing white light. She glimpsed a belch of smoke and a wave of fire from the bottom of the endless slope, heard a predatory squawk so utterly undeniable that she knew in those few seconds that she'd killed herself. As the pulsing light faded, the lift began to jump and shake beneath her feet. She fell against the chainlink fence, struggling to maintain her footing as the contraption surged ever-downwards. That was when she saw it. A hazy shadow climbing up the fence opposite.

Tunnelers.

She revved up her chainsaw, her screams matching the intensity of its roar as she lunged for the oncoming creature. She forced herself to ignore the others that spilled over the fences, fixing her attention on the hissing monster in front of her. She let it pounce into the saw's bloody chain, revelled in its dying cry before she moved onto the others, readying herself for the claws of the horde.

The swarm came at her all at once, leaping for her unprotected face as she sawed through the nearest's abdomen. She swept the whirring blade across them in a horizontal line, sending them jumping back and cowering in fear. The noise of the weapon was enough to deter the smaller few, but it seemed as though the swarm gave the monsters courage. They cornered her despite the din, sending her stumbling further and further back until she could hear the rattling of the fence behind her. Despite ED-E's fierce determination to fry as many brains as possible, their numbers were overwhelming. They launched themselves from the fence at an alarming rate, even as she sawed through the masses with grisly delight.

"Feast on this, you lizard pricks!" She screamed, overwhelmed by the ecstasy of the fight. She thrusted the chainsaw through a larger tunneler's torso and drove it against the opposite fence before forcing the jittering weapon upwards through the chainlink, knocking three climbing others down into the whirring gears below. She allowed the saw to die for a moment as she forced off the gore-soaked corpse with her foot.

An explosion threw her off her feet. She was dazed for a moment, confused by the sparks of electricity in her eyes until they were raked at by a trio of vicious talons. When she came to her senses, she screamed. The beasts were practically piling themselves on top of her, sinking their teeth into metal and flesh as she struggled against the weight of their numbers pressing down on her. She thrashed wildly in an attempt to shake them off, unable to stand as she searched for her chainsaw. The weapon was lost amongst the swelling horde. She fumbled for her pistol, slamming it down on the nearest tunneler's head before firing three loud shots into the open mouth of another. Another at her feet was acquainted with the heel of her boot. She stumbled into a half-sitting position, gulping down air as she searched for an escape. When she turned her head, she was staring into piercing blue eyes and two rows of jagged teeth.

Oh, but her own were so much sharper.

She whacked her head into the tunneler's own before slamming down on it with the butt of her pistol. After firing three blind shots into the hungry crowd, she sank her teeth into the small creature's neck until her mouth was filled with blood. She shoved the body aside and, finally, was able to get to her feet. The ride was coming to an end, the exit so close, just moments away. She reached for her final grenade and pulled the pin, letting it fall to the ground as she pushed through the toxic myriad and made one desperate leap for daylight.

* * *

><p>Ashton Missile Silo seemed ready to blow. Explosions ate up every corner of her vision; the building stomped and shook like a child having a tantrum as she tore from room to room in search of an exit. A sentry bot was positioned behind every door, blasting holes in her before she could stop to take a breath. She thought the place was trying to kill her - some kind of rogue horse trying to shake off its rider. It knocked her to the dirt countless times, but she was up again before it could trample her. She reduced every robot to a steaming lump of scrap metal, unlocked every door via terminal with trembling hands and a pathetic recollection of half-remembered hacking techniques until finally, <em>finally, <em>she came across a sight so sweet it made her cry.

An auto-doc buzzed in the corner of the room.

* * *

><p><strong>ADMINISTER MED-X? [x2]<strong>

**YES_**

**ADMINISTRATING MED-X [x2]**

**Running diagnostics . . . **

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #1933**

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #0294**

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #2718**

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #2938**

* * *

><p><em>"Oh, happy days, momma! I've finally found me a good virgin girl to mind my homestead and bear my sweet sons!"<em>

_"Sweet Lord in Heaven, Anna, what poor kid have you dragged home this time?"_

_"Mom, you won't believe this girl. You know the poor dead bastard who escaped Vault 101?"_

_"Baby girl, tell me you didn't."_

_"Didn't what? Oh, you were asking about this girl? No, no, I met this one at church while I was praying away my sins."_

_"Mother of God, you- hey, hey, sugar, don't look so frightened. I know my daughter puts the fear of God in people when she wants, but we won't do you no harm."_

_"See? She's no trouble, mom, I promise. We're back with food and everything."_

_"Alright, alright, you sort her out and sit her down while I get somethin' hot on the table. What's your name, sweetie?"_

_"I'm Grace Arlyn, ma'am. It's wonderful to meet you - I hope I'm not a bother."_

_"Don't you worry one bit about that. When my girl's good enough to bring someone home, she always has the best stories to tell."_

* * *

><p><strong>RUNNING PROCEDURE #0004<strong>

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #0218**

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #1293**

**RUNNING PROCEDURE #0035**

* * *

><p><em>"The boys are the wittiest,<br>_

_The girls are the prettiest, _

_Way back home!"_

_They twirled and danced to the sound of music and laughter, to the clinking of beer bottles and enthusiastic shouts. Megaton was the most miserable hole Brianna O'Reilly knew, but in these precious minutes it was the happiest place in the Capital Wasteland. Gob the bartender was cranking up the radio as loud as it would go while Nova sat cross-legged on the bar and looked on at the dancing couple with a smile that hadn't reached her eyes in a long, long time before now. The sheriff's son twirled young Maggie around as the pair giggled, almost as childlike as the Lone Wanderer and Courier Six as they danced together in a time that had been much too brief._

_"The pigs are the snootiest,_

_The owls are the hootiest,_

_The plants the fruitiest,_

_The stars the shootiest!"_

_"The grins the funniest," Brianna teased, twirling the other woman around and tapping a playful finger on her nose as they smiled at each other, ridiculously happy in a world that was crumbling beneath the weight of its endless wars. She'd been so young back then, so optimistic. She'd been as hopeful then as she was now, but it was a blinding kind of optimism. It was false hope, hope that hadn't been tested and therefore was meaningless. But it ignited her days with the burning joy that stemmed from sunrises and plundered loot, from kisses in the evenings and songs belted from hilltops. _

_"The smiles the sunniest," Grace beamed, in a way that was so purely her that it almost hurt to look at. To see that smile again was a mocking kind of agony. Even as she stood now, held by mechanical arms and near-deafened by bangs and whirs, she could remember every detail of this woman's face. She knew Grace Arlyn by heart, had memorised the dark freckles smattered across her cheeks and the crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she laughed. The bouncing of her hair when it was a fluffy disaster of an afro, then the way she wound it up around her head when she'd twisted the curly strands into dreadlocks. She remembered the positive bounce in her step, eventually weighed down into a fists-clenched-muscles-taut-head-raised kind of stride. She remembered the dimples on her cheeks and the golden glint of her eyes. She remembered the curves of her lips and the bruises on her knuckles and the scuffs on her shoes. Here, now, floating on chems and suspended by machines, she was made of memories._

* * *

><p><strong>ENTERING STASIS - 1239 SECONDS REMAINING <strong>

**ADMINISTRATING STIMPAK**

* * *

><p><em>Something was wrong. She knew it as soon as she made it up the steps, knew it as soon as she saw the paladin's face.<em>

_Her life became a jumble of words._

_"I'm so sorry."_

_"We have to move! Now!"_

_"There was no other way."_

_"The Enclave, they-"_

_"I am Alpha and Omega."_

_"God, no, no, this isn't happening, this can't-"_

_"The beginning and the end-"_

_"There's no time!"_

_"The radiation-"_

_"- minutes left, we have-"_

_"No, no, no, no, no, no-"_

_She slammed her fists against the glass as the love of her life stumbled back and fell against it. Her legs kicked out, her body writhed, her fingers tap-tap-tapped as her cells divided, as the radiation ripped her apart and burned a hole through Brianna's chest. Words weren't enough. She tried, God, she tried, but a million I-love-yous wouldn't make her stand, wouldn't let her live, wouldn't make this end._

_"I love you! You're everything to me! Don't do this! Let me go, get off me, I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Grace!"_

* * *

><p><em>"Hopeville, High Road, Ashton... tiny cracks in the earth, nothing compared to the road carved ahead. This is the edge of The Divide. Ahead lies your work, the history you burned, everything you brought to the people here. You brought that device here, to the community you built, and you are responsible for what happened after. Those missiles you saw embedded in the ground, they exploded beneath the ground, cracked the landscape. You turned your history into sand and ash. The Divide skies became a graveyard."<em>

"The markings on that package, they reminded me of this place, made me want to go home."

_"You carried death along that road, as you carried it everywhere else you go. You brought vengeance to the Capital Wasteland, liberation to Zion Valley, forgiveness to the Sierra Madre, hope to the Mojave Desert, but at what cost? All of your messages have a body count, Courier. Your passion has a death toll, your love has a fatality rate. You're a grenade. A timebomb, maybe. What you did here, it can happen again. No man or woman should be able to wield destruction as carelessly as you do. You're a half-life, you're molotov cocktail, you're the fallout itself."_

"You're wrong. Glorify me, vilify me, build me up into the monster in your mind if that's what keeps you breathing, but you're feeding yourself with metaphors, Ulysses, and when we meet, you'll choke on them. I've called myself a lot of things before. I've been a hurricane, I've been post-apocalypse silver, I've been the Mojave wrapped in leather and skin. I've been the Whore of the West, I've been a woman on fire, I've been the queen on a chessboard, but those names are just bandages covering an oozing wound. I'm just a woman. I'm just a scared, hopeful, desperate woman who wants to go home but doesn't know how. That's all I've ever been, just a restless wanderer finding home in so many different places, leaving parts of herself all over the wasteland then going back in search of them. If you want to kill me, fine. When the time comes, we'll see how that ends. But if you kill me, it'll be Brianna O'Reilly who chokes out her last breath. That image of me inside your head, it'll always remain. Just as sure as sandstorms in The Divide, Courier Six will never die.

"The revenge you seek, the answers you get, it'll all turn to ashes in your mouth, just like The Divide."

_"We'll see."_


	64. Coming Home

**GOMORRAH**

**JULY 16**

**02:36**

The canyon snaked on for miles and miles, its path carved by explosions and storm-tossed chaos. It looked as if this nation had been swept away by a colossal flood, leaving nothing behind but washed-up buildings and scattered warheads. The building beneath her swayed and groaned as she peered over its edge. She could see one small base nearby, distinguished from the rubble by the burning campfire and the Marked Men who milled about it. She spied the familiar red top of a warhead buried deep in the ground, drawing the laser detonator and squaring her aim in its centre. It would be war down there when The Divide's inhabitants sensed her presence. She wanted to cut out as much of the opposition as she could before it came to that.

The explosion shook the bones of the earth. A hundred windows smashed in her ears as the flames swelled upwards. The base was nothing more than the smell of smoke in the air as Brianna got to her feet, searching the area for a way to descend. A radio tower had fallen against the building, creating a diagonal path downwards from a few stories below.

"How do you feel about heights, ED-E?"

The robot gave an uncertain beep as she lowered herself down, dangling her legs off the edge of the crumbling structure. Then she was weightless, suspended between two landings for what seemed like an eternity as she dropped. The metal rattled beneath her as she landed heavily on the collapsed mast, breathing a sigh of relief. ED-E floated down to meet her. The unsteady beam took her another few floors down until she came across an exploded hole in the wall. It led into a room defaced by graffiti, streams of jumbled letters sprayed across every wall. She wasn't surprised by the message they displayed.

**WELCOME HOME, COURIER.**

A collapsing metal stairway brought her down to the bottom few floors. She searched the area for anything she could salvage, coming up with a sniper rifle and a single magazine of bullets. She found herself a comfortable position outside the building, the fallen remnants of the radio tower above providing a final short passage downwards. From there, she would have to jump to the ground. But before she could search through her scope for targets to pick off, the voice of a young boy caught her attention.

_"Dad! Hey, Dad! Look what I found!"_

_"Careful, Tommy," _came an older male voice from ED-E's speakers, _"I've never seen a robot like that before - it could be dangerous."_

_"He's not dangerous. Look, he's hurt! Can we take him home, Dad? Maybe Mom can fix him!"_

_"I don't know, son. What if someone comes looking for it?"_

_"Please? He looks so lonely. If Mom fixes him, he could help out around the garage."_

_"Alright, alright. But if he breaks anything, it's coming out of your allowance."_

_"Yay! He'll be just like RALPHIE, only this one's not a toy! This is the best day ever!"_

"Looks like you made a new friend, huh? Where did this happen? Illin-what? _Chicago?_ You're making that up!"

The robot beeped with such enthusiasm that Brianna thought he would burst with happiness.

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun there. How about I introduce you to my friends when we get back home? Hey, don't look at me like that. You don't have to stay forever - just for a while before you head off to those coordinates again. But if you like it in New Vegas, maybe you could stay with us. Alright, alright, I- I need to tell you something, buddy." She couldn't keep quiet, not any more. The thought of the eager little robot searching for so many years just to find nothing was unbearable. "You know the place Whitley sent you off to? He's- he's not there, ED-E. No one's there. That place was taken over by a lot of bad people who would hurt you or send you away. And I- hey, hey, calm down, hold on. Your friend Whitley, he- he might not be around anymore. I think he's dead, ED-E. The Enclave are all gone now. I don't think he survived."

The robot's beeping sounded almost like a shriek as he whizzed around her head, floating angrily from side to side before falling to the floor.

She sat down next to him and pulled him onto her lap. He hovered just a few inches above her knees, pressed against her chest as the pair looked down at the barren wasteland beyond. "It's okay, ED-E, it's okay. I lost my friend in DC too. I know, I know. I bet he'd be really proud of you, though, just like I am. You've come such a long way, haven't you? Maybe it's time you settled down somewhere safe. You'd like my friends. Sunny would take care of you, you'd be her best friend. If Veronica was alive, God, she would have loved you. Maybe you'd cheer Christine up a little. You could live in New Vegas, there are lots and lots of robots there. Shush, shush, it's alright. We'll be alright."

* * *

><p>The canyon was silent and still as she made her way down. She'd picked off the few Marked Men in the area with her sniper rifle before rooting around the abandoned bases for weapons and ammo. After swiping an assault rifle off a fallen soldier, she used a scavenged bonesaw and some discarded wonderglue to remove the scope on her sniper rifle and secure it to the new weapon. The end result was a somewhat shoddier version of the weapon she'd lost back in the tunnel, but it was good enough for her. She found some magazines for her pistol and a couple of stimpaks at the bottom of a first-aid kit, but the meagre loot was all this section of The Divide had to offer. She ducked in and out of crumbling buildings, detonating a few of the fallen warheads to carve a path out of the destruction. It was a long time before her miserable robot companion 'spoke' again. When he did, the audio recording was a cheery rendition of <em>Jingle, Jangle, Jingle, <em>interrupted by the sound of a gunshot.

"Did someone shoot you? Who were they? Hm, thought so. Those raiders would've sold you for scrap in a heartbeat - you're lucky you made it out alive."

The robot gave a scared beep and a shudder.

"They must have blown out something important. That's why you didn't make it to Navarro. Hey, it's alright. You've got me now. We just need to figure out a way to bypass this building, then we can keep going. Any ideas?"

Eventually, Brianna found what she was looking for. The collapsed buildings in the canyon made it impossible to continue further, but to her immediate alarm she found that one of the desolate buildings that lay against the canyon wall was a hell of a lot more than it appeared. One of the open doors opened out into a vast underground chasm, lit only by the thin beams of silvery light that filtered through the stone above. ED-E gave a frightened beep, floating backwards through the door in adamant refusal. She could understand his apprehension, feeling the same sensation of dread nestle in her gut. She'd seen enough bio-luminescent tunnel-dwellers to last her a few long lifetimes, but this was the only way onward.

_"Next week on RALPHIE the Robot's Incredible Odyssey!"_ The announcement was followed by a child's voice._ "__RALPHIE, hurry! If mean old General Winters catches you, you'll never make it home! No! RALPHIE! Fly far, fly fast! Tune in next Saturday for the exciting conclusion! Only on Vault-Tec Channel 9!" _Brianna smiled wistfully, remembering old cartoons she'd watched as a child that were similarly ridiculous, until a familiar voice interrupted. _"ED-E? What are you doing in here all alone? And who left those old videos playing? Come on, let's get you into your recharge bay. We've got a big day tomorrow."_

"That's all you were trying to do, huh? Just trying to make it back home?"

The robot gave a miserable beep.

"Well, I think RALPHIE the Robot would be absolutely amazed by you."

Another chime, this one a little more hopeful.

"I mean it. I bet he'd never let any mean old general get you."

He nuzzled up against her, brushing her cheek with his tiny body.

"I know it's hard when you don't know where home is anymore. But maybe we could find a new one together."

This beep ended in a high-pitched upwards inflection, almost like a question.

"You could stay with me and my friends, all safe and sound. If you really want, I could help you find your friend. He might have made it out. He might be looking for you. But if he isn't, you'll always have a place with me. We're just the same, aren't we? We're both just wanderers looking for home. But if we want to make it there, we have to fly very far, and we have to fly very fast. I think we're both very good at that. So what do you say, ED-E? Are you with me?"

With a determined surge of battle music, ED-E charged into the cavern.

A hundred eyes opened around them. A bestial shriek sounded from somewhere in the cavern. Brianna didn't flinch. She didn't cower. This place had forged her into a weapon, beaten and burned her until she was white-hot and ready to kill. She wouldn't hesitate. She wouldn't hide. The Divide storms had whipped her skin as fiercely as they raged inside of her and running was not in the nature of a hurricane. She moved into the abyss with all the reckless cause and confidence of nature - and that was what she was. Her eyes were smouldering coals, her footsteps the pelting of rain. Her veins were the network of a volcano, bubbling with heat and energy and anger. Her mouth was a tsunami as she smirked in the way that could swallow men whole.

The roar of her chainsaw was the crackle of lightning as the wave came upon her. The first tunneler to pounce was met with a whirring chain to the neck. It gargled on streams of thick blue blood as her foot slammed into the face of the next. She twirled and spun, lunged and parried, moved with the speed and elegance of a dancer. When she grew tired of sawing off limbs, she produced her rifle. The chattering of the weapon was enough to thin the crowd as their snapping teeth bit bullets. She slammed the butt of the gun into a leaping tunneler's head, knocking back in time for ED-E to zap it with a few crackles of energy.

It took only minutes for the remaining tunnelers to scatter. Their exit came in the form of a simple doorway at the end of the cavern, with a metal staircase beyond that brought her to fresh air again. The sky was dark, clear from where she stood although a storm was brewing on the horizon. She drank down the stars and gulped the crisp, cool air. The beauty of the night was almost enough to distract her from the startling disquiet.

Almost.

_"Might be I was wrong about you," _Ulysses said as ED-E floated to meet her. _"Thought The Divide would break you, or that you'd be made of stronger stuff. I was wrong both times. You and The Divide are the almost the same being. It made you, as you made it. But no need to go any farther. You've brought me what I need - that machine with you, sealed in the Hopeville silo. The signal's strong enough now. I can call him to me."_

"You want ED-E? Why?"

_"You gave it a name. What was it to you? A slave, a weapon, a companion? Your companions don't have very long lifespans, so I'm told. But all of that, it's nothing compared to the machine's primary function. It's a messenger, like us. It shares our history. I'll strip it to its parts, just enough to function, to maintain what bare form of sentience it holds. You think it understands that home is lost to it? You think it bears the emotion, the depth, to know that everything it knows is gone forever? No. Inside that machine is the message you brought here. It - like you - will do what it's programmed to do: whatever it can to get home."_

A sharp chill ran through her. Her voice wouldn't carry itself higher than a whisper.

"What are you talking about?"

_"The giants here will listen to your call, Courier. I'll bring The Divide to your home, to your nation. Everywhere you've been, everywhere you've loved - the Capital Wasteland, the Mojave Desert, Zion Valley - I'll show it, in the rawest way I can, what Brianna O'Reilly's message truly is. Everything you love will turn to ash. No one will be left to remember your flag. Your name, your history, all wiped clean, all lost beneath the rubble."_

"You can't do that. You can't!" Her world was crumbling. Something shattered in her mind. "Why, why would you-?!"

_"Big Mountain access code... Ulysses... Command override... Navarro."_

Just like that, the eye-bot whizzed off into the distance. Just like that, everything she was crumbled to dust.

In the heart of The Divide, swallowed by darkness and buried beneath the weight of the destruction she'd brought here, Brianna O'Reilly fell to her knees. She looked up at the sky and she saw home. She saw fingers tracing far-off constellations, fingers entwined beneath silvery rays of moonlight, murmured conversations about what was up above them, what it meant, what came after. She looked up at the sky and saw rippling pools in long-forgotten caves, saw the promising glint of a lake in the distance, saw sparkling water and all the mystery and depth of every pair of eyes she'd ever poured her adoration into. She looked up at the sky and saw footprints in the sand, heard the sound of laughter and the clinking of beer bottles. She looked up at the sky and saw the lights of New Vegas, the promise of home, the promise of a hundred million other people gazing up just as she was, ecstatic or bitter or joyous or hopeful or just so happy to be alive.

She looked up at the sky and screamed out her sorrow, rid herself of the scum of guilt and grief in her lungs. She screamed for home, she screamed for life and death and everything, everyone she knew, everything and everyone that was lost to her. She looked up at the sky and saw visions of a world burned to the ashes that filled her mouth, reduced to the skin-flaying windstorms that tore at her heart, God, this couldn't be the end. She'd come in search of the last page of this chapter, in the hope of beginning a new one, but what if this was all there was? She refused the thought with everything in her. This wasn't the final page, this wasn't the checkmate, this wasn't the final bow or the tearful goodbye.

She knew what this was. This omnicidal maniac posing as a poet was trying to take away her home. She knew exactly what this was.

This was war.

* * *

><p>War was what she brought to The Divide. She blew apart the fallen warhead and allowed the explosion's heat to wash over her, swearing that never again would she cause destruction like this. The fallen building in the middle of the path was blown into shards and shrapnel, making way for the two deathclaws that lay beyond. She ducked beneath the first blow, swiping across the monster's torso before ducking beneath its arm and moving behind it. She sank the axe down into its shoulder, then sliced across its neck as it turned to face her. She allowed her anger to fuel her, smashing through the second deathclaw's many-toothed snarl with a powerful upwards slice.<p>

A wave of dead soldiers greeted her after she'd washed the blood from her face and drank down some of the cool water that gushed from a busted pipe nearby. She turned, drawing her weapon and readying herself to face the approaching squadron before something slammed into her side. She swerved, her axe swiping through the air as she searched for the attacker. There was a faint glimmer in the empty space in front of her. A Marked Man with a giant blade had found a stealth boy. She met his shimmering blow with the head of her axe, forcing it back and drawing her pistol. The soldier matched her first shot with another glide of its sword, this time making a cut through the armour on her torso. The next came down on her shoulder, drawing a cry of pain as the aggressor flickered into view. She slammed her axe down on his wrist, loosening his grip on the weapon. It clattered to the ground.

She dealt a hard blow to the Marked Man's leg, knocking him back as she stooped low to retrieve the fallen sword. She ducked behind him, adjusting to its weight and form just in time to swing it across his head. Before she could deliver the finishing blow, the approaching squadron were on her. She cut through the nearest's face with an unsteady blow, carving a jagged line across his flesh. He was quick to retaliate, meeting her blow-for-blow until his fellow soldiers caught up. Brianna danced from one Marked Man to the other, taking one down with an arced swing across his neck. The severed head fell at her feet, the body collapsing in a bleeding heap. Her armour clanged and screeched at every heavy blow, one managing to catch her arm while she was preoccupied with the other attackers. Someone swung for her head. She stepped back just in time and knocked the blade from the Marked Man's hand. She advanced upon him and drove the blade through his face.

She whipped out her pistol and fired six shots into the nearest soldier - this one an NCR trooper. Six holes were blown into him from groin to head, sending him to the ground. She quickly reloaded, pumping a bullet into a kneecap and knocking back a charging legionnaire as she shoved the weapon into its holster and went for her rifle. She finished off the injured zombie and finished off another with a steady torrent of bullets to the face. She barely felt the constant blows delivered from every side of her. They left no mark but the ringing in her ears as the final Marked Man fell.

When she retrieved her sword from the face of one of her fallen foes, she found its name engraved on the blade. It was then that she knew it was hers.

* * *

><p>She drove The Blade of the West into a Marked Man's gut, knocking him off the building and letting him tumble to the ground below. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and faced her remaining opposition - one trooper on either side of the rooftop. One had a gun. She moved for him, taking a stunning blow to the chest that sent her stumbling back. But only for a moment. Her armour was more than impenetrable steel, more than the flag on her back. Her armour was her home. It was Sunny, Christine, it was her parents and the Renegades and the Rivet City scientists. It was the Followers and the Boomers and the Brotherhood of Steel, it was Old Ben and Waking Cloud and that cowboy with the guitar. It was everyone she'd ever held in her arms and every passing face on the street. Brianna O'Reilly was facing monsters, but it was the people at home who were taking the hits. If she didn't succeed today, it would be the people she loved who would know the pain of her failure.<p>

She dealt a horizontal blow to his right arm, knocking his aim off as she brought the blade down. She sawed once through the splitting flesh of his forearm, feeling the skin separate and the tendons rip apart. She threw him back, pressing the blade into his neck as she drove him against the wall and sawed. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. Back, forth, back, forth until his head rolled off his shoulders. The next came at her with a fury that was laughable compared to her own. She deflected every blow, parried and thrusted and swerved and shouted until she was driven back against the edge of the building. She wouldn't fall. She sidestepped, swiped, cut into steel and flesh and tossed him back. The Marked Man lost his footing. She stayed until she heard his bones crack against the rocks below.

At daybreak, she came face-to-face with a steel door in the mountains. Her Pip-Boy named it Ulysses' Temple.

* * *

><p><strong> Open Repair Pod 2 - OCCUPIED<strong>

After fighting her way past terminal rooms full of sentry bots, she'd finally found her companion. Three eye-bot docks stood in a neat row, with one familiar robot hovering in the central one. She opened it using the terminal, watching with delight as the door slid open and her companion burst free with energetic gusto. He whizzed towards her and nudged against her head in what she assumed was gratitude.

"God, I'm so glad I found you. Are you okay?"

A confirmatory beep.

"What happened, ED-E? He pulled you to him somehow, didn't he?"

Another confirmatory beep.

"Why? He already knew I was coming - he didn't have to lure me here."

A confused chirp.

"At least we're together now. Come on, buddy. Time to put an end to this."

* * *

><p>Ulysses' Temple was immense. A large cavern of metal littered with warheads, many larger and thinner than the ones she'd detonated before. And one more, at the very end, as big as the one she'd seen when she first arrived. It was marked with the Old American flag. Standing right in front of it, knocking the breath from her lungs, giving Brianna's legs an unsteady sway as she walked towards him, was Ulysses.<p>

She remembered feeling afraid when she'd first looked into Benny's eyes. Afraid of herself, mostly, and what she would do after finding out that the man who had tried to kill her was so undeniably human. When she stared into the face of the man who was going to take away everything she knew, everything she loved, she felt not a trace of that. He had his hair in twisted dreadlocks, wore a sleeveless duster over an armoured vest. Dark skin, muscular build, most of his face concealed by a mask similar to the rebreather she'd once owned. Those were trivial details. They were nothing.

This was everything.

"The Divide giants are awakening. Courier Six will never die, just as you said. Here is that proof, in the rumbling of history as it asserts itself in your name."

"If you think my message is nothing more than destruction and death, then I feel sorry for you. You've blinded yourself, staring into those explosions time and time again, letting them drill into your mind and plague you like a sickness. I have brought people hope, Ulysses. I've ignited more than just nuclear warheads - I've sparked the fire in the hearts of hundreds, thousands of people who chant my name, who rely on me to lead them and bring them something no Old World relic can offer. I have fallen in love countless times, just a little bit with every stranger I meet. I have known people I would kill for and, now, people I would die for. I've given everything I have to my home, wherever you think that might be. And to this place, I brought destruction. But that wasn't a message. That wasn't a sign of more death to come. It was a mistake."

"You don't see, don't listen, couldn't know the truth even if I nailed it into your head like a message from Caesar. You brought The Divide to life, Courier, you walked the road. You brought the Bull, brought the Bear, brought me, following your tracks. In your creation I saw a second chance, a place I could proudly put my flag. Then you delivered your message in that package, destroyed it all. Nearly killed me, flesh and spirit. But you returned. You abandoned it, let it rot, forgot your guilt, but you came back, you brought it again in that machine. You can't help yourself. You can't walk away."

"You're right. I can't walk away, not even now, not out of this place even if you let me. Ulysses, listen to me. You love messages - you became one just like I did - so listen to the final message I have to deliver. The Mojave Desert is not as you know it, not anymore. I've made it a new nation, a nation under one flag, a nation just taking its first breaths, taking its first unsteady steps, just like this place did. The Mojave is my chance to start again, to undo what was done. But you can't change history. So at the very least, allow it to be my chance at redemption. My flag flies there - the wind carries it as it carries my messages. It carries the message that hope holds a greater strength than warheads and Old World machines. It states that everyone deserves a chance at life, a shot at second chances despite the wrongs they've done. There's a place for you there, if you want it."

"Your kingdom will turn to dust regardless of what happens here today, Courier."

"Call me by my name."

"Brianna, then. Brianna O'Reilly, you stole everything from me. My shot at a second chance, redemption, my chance at life. I won't walk that road again only to return to a ticking timebomb. Slow or sudden, your kingdom's end will come. I won't leave my mark there only for it to be blown away."

"Then stay."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Stay here with me, until the very end. Let this be the last place I turn to ash. The Divide's history, its shadows, the monsters I made, they'll all go down when we do. Let that be today. Together, we can stop those monsters from digging past that barrier of rubble and butchering every person in the Mojave and beyond it. What purpose would that serve, to lay waste to New Vegas and make it home for the monsters this place has birthed? The Divide is a cancer, carrying messages of death as long as its allowed to continue spreading. You were right in everything you said about me. I'm a timebomb. Just like these monsters, these warheads, I can't be allowed to leave this place. You and I, let's end it. If you want to burn down my home, burn down everything I stand for, destroy every message I've carried, this is how you can do it. Zion, DC, even the Mojave will forget me in time. But this place is everything I am. Let's bring one final act of destruction, one that's sure to bring peace. Change the destination coordinates of the missiles, bring them here. Let's tear my kingdom down."


	65. RECORDING

_"You've been recording this whole time, haven't you, ED-E? You little rascal. Listen to me, I need you to do something. I'm going to give you new coordinates, I'm going to send you to my home where all my friends are, just like I told you about. You'll find a woman with blonde hair and brown eyes. Short, leather armour, she might be a little sad when you find her. I don't know if you understand this, but- I know, I know, you're smarter than you let on, right? Please, I- can you play her everything? Everything you've recorded here, I need you to play it all back to her, let her know what happened. You'll need to fly very far. You'll need to fly very fast. But I believe in you. I believe in you. Just keep recording, just a second._

_You were right, baby. I should have stayed behind. But you'll have learned from those messages that that isn't something I can do. I'm going to destroy this place, destroy the message and the monsters once and for all. I'm leaving the rest up to you. Find people you trust, keep our neighbours on our side, keep the supply lines going. Yes Man can do it all, you just need to tell him what needs done. I know it won't be easy, but I know how much you want to make a difference. If you want to leave New Vegas, it's your choice. But whatever you do, please, just - just don't let the people's hope die with me._

_I can't say enough, can't do enough now to let you know that I never wanted it to end like this. I can't do enough to say I love you, I can't kiss you and hold you a million times like I always wanted. I can't take you back to the lake. I can't show you Zion. Will you go there? Please, if- if you don't hate me for what I've done, please, go to Zion Valley. If you ever miss me, if you ever need to be close to me, to know I'm watching over you, guiding you, that's where I'll be. That's where you'll find me. Find me in the rainbows and the rainstorms just like I find you in the sunshine._

_I don't have much time. I love you. I love you, Sunny Smiles, I love you._

_You're my sunshine."_


	66. The Beginning and the End

_Three minutes, _she thought, sitting up on the control panel and breathing. Just breathing. Allowing every muscle to relax, finally, after so long. Her fingers traced gently over her scar, the rough flesh beneath her fingertips bringing back the memories of the man who had put it there. She remembered that cold night on the hilltop, the taste of blood on her tongue, the silvery glow of the moon. But that was just for a moment, before she remembered other things. Like how she'd stood up in Doc Mitchell's office, pride swelling in her chest as she took her first triumphant step towards the rest of her life.

She remembered Zion. She remembered a beautiful woman with a bear claw for a hand and a man who had waded through deep red waters with a weapon that shone in darkness. She remembered the honest hearts of the people who had lived and loved there, who had shared their food and their homes and their innocent wisdom. She remembered how she'd wept, how her lips had pressed so lovingly against that sun-beaten earth and how her fingernails had scratched deep wounds into the edge of a clifftop, when that blue, blue water had been so far below her, and that blue, blue sky so far above. And she had been in the middle. Perfect. Eternal. Always in that place between life and death, and laughing.

She remembered the Capital Wasteland, that half-forgotten wreckage so far away. She remembered Grace Arlyn, the impossible spark of fire that had set her world so beautifully alight. She remembered her first drink of pure water, and every whispered _I love you _always too far from the right ears. She remembered dancing, spinning around in the middle of that old saloon while every hardened local had a smile cracking through their hard stone faces. She remembered a dog's wagging tail and the bouncing of soft curls, chasing the laughing girl across the water's edge until neither of them could catch their breath. She remembered briefly how Grace had died, and she remembered fondly how Grace had lived.

Passionately.

She remembered Arefu. The scratching footprints of brahmin and the sound of bottles clinking, the icy bite of a fresh Nuka Cola and the warmth of protective arms around her. Coming home from a long day's work to two smiling faces and a plate of something hot. Fighting over last morsels and surrendering them in the end, wondering why it couldn't always be like this. Wondering why the world was so big and mean and wondering why it called to her, and why she called back and called back until finally she was free to run into the arms of wasteland and embrace it, finally, as an old friend she had never truly known.

She remembered Sunny. She remembered her golden hair and golden laughter and how she was everything that could ever matter. How she was Brianna's darkened path illuminated by a far-off light, and then how suddenly she became Brianna's sunshine, how she became the sparkling of a lake and the sweat on her skin and the warmth in her arms and in her days and in her heart. She remembered hugging her out in the desert, knowing that their giggling could attract raiders from miles around, knowing that with this woman at her side, she could fight off every one with a smile on her face and laughter on her lips. She remembered tangled hair and sleepy conversations. She remembered kissing in the midst of a rebellion, getting so lost in each other that they couldn't hear the chaos. God, she wanted so much for her, wanted to give her all the happiness in the world. Sunny Smiles was in everything she did, even this. Especially this. She would die a million times to keep her safe. But maybe just once would be enough.

She remembered Whiskey Rose, Cass with her drunken brawls and drunken laughter and sober truths. She remembered every aching day they'd spent together, their bodies giving out beneath the midday sun. She remembered the joy in those days, the laughter, the songs. She'd been so young, so in love with the world, and Cass had been her bitter mentor with wary eyes and a challenging smirk. She remembered the amber glint of her eyes against the early morning sun as a vertibird roared across the horizon. She remembered the words that had died on her lips.

_"You're gonna make it." _

She remembered the man she'd never had the chance to know. Arcade Gannon with his acerbic wit and unexpected wisdom. She remembered the man who had talked with her long into the night, soothing her soul with stories of disastrous science experiments and sly ex-lovers. Behind the dismissive shrugs and scavenged glasses had been something so angry, so passionate, something that had been extinguished so suddenly at Hoover Dam. She remembered the man who never got his ending. She remembered the man whose last words should have been more than _go fuck yourself, _but she knew that if he had been there to watch her plunge that sword into the gut of the Monster of the East, he would have laughed.

She remembered Veronica's smiling introduction, her disillusioned observations, her swirling dresses and staunch determination. She remembered the venom lacing every bitter word in the Sierra Madre, and the blank devastation on her face as she left behind everything she'd ever known. She remembered promising her New Vegas, falling in a strange sort of love with the scribe and her unwavering hope. Maybe Veronica had found her ending the same way Brianna had. Maybe she'd found substance in the abyss. That thought made her heart ache. She hoped, she hoped with everything in her that Veronica Santangelo had died with hope in her heart.

She remembered the woman Veronica had left behind. She remembered Christine's deep, deep scars and grim determination. She remembered every frantic gesture and anguished scream, how she'd never faltered as they left the Sierra Madre behind them. She remembered the sly-eyed girl with wild red hair, the girl before the scars, the girl before the grief. She remembered the little doll with the broken voice and the woman she became. That woman would walk her own Lonesome Road soon enough, carve her path through Old World destruction in her search for purpose. She would fall to her knees and scream at the sky, but Brianna knew in her heart that Christine Royce would find something to fight for. She would bring something back from Big Mountain, change things like the rest of their group never had the chance to.

She remembered anguish. She remembered grief. She remembered those spilled drinks and leather skirts, long nights of wandering through broken streets, long nights of squirming beneath the touch of another man and fighting off the wandering hands of customers who wouldn't pay. And she remembered leaving it all behind. She remembered thundering past those gates in crimson lingerie and a leather trench coat, knowing that the shotgun on her back would never be as threatening as the burning in her eyes, the blood on her knuckles, the sharp glint of her bared teeth. She remembered the fading skyline and the scraping of a shovel against dirt. She remembered red clouds and a platinum chip and a flag flying high. She remembered a vibrator in a can of beans, underwear shoved down a plughole, a robot in a feather boa. She remembered long nights under billions of stars, sunlight creeping up over a ruined horizon. God, she remembered so much. The War of Zion, the Heist of the Centuries, the Battle of Hoover Dam. She remembered the wasteland. It had been her life. It had been everything she'd loved. It had ripped her apart in a million different ways and she had _survived._

And she had lived.

She remembered laughter she couldn't stop. She remembered cereal bars and coyote steaks and a casserole she'd never gotten to eat. She remembered rainbows and tattoos and Dean Martin crackling through busted speakers. She remembered dancing. On hilltops, by the river, on a pole in the middle of a stage or in the hollowed remains of a bomb shelter. She remembered rain falling against her face, skewered meat roasting on a crackling fire, stories told in the middle of the night about burned men and windstorms. She remembered the jingling of caps and the beeping of a collar and waking up to an Elvis song and falling asleep to soft snores. She remembered the hundreds of people she'd saved, remembered their beaming faces. She remembered that little girl named Grace, the bride she'd saved from the White Glove Society, the handsome man from the Gun Runners shack, the lonesome cowboy they'd rescued from bandits.

She remembered a thousand voices all saying goodbye.

_One minute._

As she wiped the tears from her cheeks, Brianna realised that she didn't want to die. There was so much out there, so many things left to do. She would never say goodbye to her parents, never let them know that their daughter was the happiest she'd ever been, that she'd fallen in love with so many people, that she'd left traces of her heart all across the wasteland. She would never see Freeside grow, never see the junkies disappear off the streets, never see the rubble clear and the shops open and the Followers of the Apocalypse thrive under her care. She would never hear the thanks of the people whose lives she had saved, never see them change the world in their own little ways. She would never meet the slaves she'd rescued from Fortification Hill.

She would never see Sunny again, never tell her she loved her, never watch her grow and learn and love in all the ways Brianna never would. She would never kiss her scars, never trace the laughter lines on her face after age had left its mark on them both. She would never go back to the lake. She would never go back home. That was the cruellest thing of all. The Divide had taught her that home is the place where you're needed, that home is the place you bring life to. She knew now, finally, that home was the places you carried in your heart, that home was in your bones, in your words, in everything you did. Home had been right here. Home was Zion Valley, the Mojave Desert, the Capital Wasteland, and she would never see those skies again, never see the clouds swirling above the city, never see the sun climbing high above the mountains, never see another rainbow over the canyon.

_I can't do this by myself._

Oh, but she could. Hadn't she always been waiting for this? Hadn't she always been a woman running for her life, running out of time? She always fancied herself immortal, told herself that death would never come for the likes of her. She was eternal, everlasting. She was a constant, a certainty, and Courier Six would always be exactly that. She would become the smell of smoke in the air long after the candle had burned out. But, God, not yet. She had so much fire left in her, so much light to give before she burned out. Brianna O'Reilly was the sand in the hour glass. She was the hopeful spark of a lighter. She was Alpha and Omega. She was the beginning and the end. She had been a grenade, a shield, a whisper upon lips, then a shout. She was the heart of The Divide. She was the Mojave wrapped in leather and skin. She was the chanting of hundreds of people, she was every shared kiss in the streets of New Vegas, she was the burning in the hearts of the city that believed in her and she would not let that die. She was a person, small and afraid and not ready to die, but this had always been her ending.

_Ten seconds._

Brianna O'Reilly had found her ending to things. When the bombs rained down, she looked up. She found the sky. Smiled.

**-END OF TWO TO THE HEAD-**


	67. Epilogue

When **Sunny Smiles **left the Lucky 38 to find a robot bearing a message, she didn't know what to think. She stood on the steps as the world stood still, as the city fell silent, as everything slowed and spun. When she heard Brianna O'Reilly's voice comparing her to the sun for the last time, she fell to her knees. But after an eternity and an instant, she rose. She mourned. She raged against the truth and everything it was, she brought destruction as Brianna O'Reilly once had. Her world peeled away like the wallpaper she tore from the walls of their suite, where they'd once laughed and talked and kissed and forgotten everything outside of each other. She wept until tears were all she had to give.

She held a funeral on the streets of New Vegas, made the news public, told the wasteland that she was in charge in place of the woman she loved. The attendance was astonishing. The city mourned the terrifying woman with the Platinum Chip and bullet scar, but so did many others. The freed Legion slaves wept tears of grief and admiration for the woman who had saved them. Craig Boone stood on a hilltop and nodded his thanks to the setting sun. Isaac and Arianne O'Reilly learned of their daughter's death from a crackling voice on the radio. They followed her footsteps to New Vegas, learned her stories from the people who knew her best. They grieved. They stayed. As did another girl with wild dark hair, who appeared as if from nowhere a few days following the ceremony. She claimed that she had known the woman the world was mourning. She claimed a lot of things. But Sunny Smiles believed her when she said she was **Grace Arlyn.**

Together, they learned that Brianna had lied.

Courier Six's message did not die with The Divide, nor were her footsteps wiped from history. Three women traced Brianna's history back to Zion Valley, learned the names of the people whose lives she had saved, learned that these tribals held a different kind of funeral from the ones back home. Bonfires were lit all across the valley, songs sung, stories shared. Sunny found Brianna in the rainbows and the rainstorms, found her in the caverns and the waterfalls, found her in the crackling of campfires and murmured conversations before exhaustion took hold of her.

Sunny fell in love again after a time. A doctor with clunky black boots and a mohawk taught her how to smile again. She found her purpose and let it become her. She collapsed beneath the weight of grief and the burden of New Vegas, but the pain only made her kind. It made her compassionate, more so than she had ever been before. She laughed again for the first time, the most beautiful sound in the world.

The sun burned on.

**Christine Royce **carved a path through Old World Destruction through Big Mountain with Grace and Sunny at her side. She returned to the research facility in search of knowledge and purpose, finding that and so much more. She encountered things that few would ever believe - Think Tanks with outrageous personalities who stole her spine, heart and brain. Christine almost found that amusing. She trekked through the Old World and retrieved the backbone of Brianna O'Reilly, let that woman's courage fuel her and give her strength. In doing so, she took the sharp intelligence and passionate curiosity of the strange girl from the Capital Wasteland, and let Sunny Smile's unwavering kindness become her own.

She gained the friendship of a baby deathclaw, fought off lobotomised patients and found great companionship in items such as light switches and auto-docs. She brought them all back with her, installing their A.I systems into the Lucky 38 mainframe to give Yes Man some company. Each was assigned their own tasks to keep the Mojave Desert functioning reasonably well. **ED-E **made some wonderful new friends in the Lucky 38, though the toaster A.I was destroyed after an attempt to burn the world in nuclear hellfire. It was quite a funny story, actually.

Christine found her own way, swallowed her grief and guilt and found her reason to fight. With the assistance of the freed slaves from the Legion base - those who hadn't gone on to work as Followers doctors - she went on to clean up Freeside and liberate slave camps all over the Mojave. **Claire Bishop **became a firecracker of a girl, providing a sanctuary for freed slaves and vulnerable people who hadn't yet learned to face the world as she had. **The King **moved into the Ultra Luxe and turned the place into the swankiest joint in town. **Swank **himself remained ring-a-ding, raking in customers and forever jumping at the sight of every dark-haired woman to pass him by. The junkies disappeared off the streets, reappearing as stony-eyed men and women with fire in their bellies and lightning between their teeth. The world was alight with people so full of hope and knowledge and passion, people so ready to risk everything to save lost wanderers from the same fate that had almost consumed them.

Freeside, finally, was a place of hope.

**Doc Mitchell **passed on at the ripe old age of ninety-one with a smile on his face and a bottle of whiskey in his hand. **Trudy **welcomed new faces a little easier now and turned Goodsprings into the best town around. **Chet **continued to be a deadbeat stoner until he found work at the Gun Runners. **Crazy Wolfgang** thought the store clerk was excellent company and they married six years later.

**Jack and Diane **started growing fresh food instead of cooking chems - but they did a little of that too. They made quite the successful pair at the farms outside Freeside. A wonderful nightkin grandma named **Lily **helped out. As it turned out, she was a fantastic gardener. Her brothers and sisters in Jacobstown were free to roam and trade with the other settlements, though most preferred the company of their own kind.

**The Boomers **settled in quite comfortably at Camp McCarran, half of them opting to stay at Nellis. After a while, their numbers grew big enough to fill both those bases. Some patrolled the streets while others did what they did best - blew shit up. **The Followers, **on the other hand, grew all across the desert. They faced long, hard years, struggling to keep their numbers up and find new supplies to sustain them. But the Courier had inspired them, and their determination became their eventual success. They made it.

**The Mojave Desert **thrived under the control of a cheery ex-raider, an intense ex-scribe, an unnervingly happy Artificial Intelligence and a number of household appliances. Things weren't easy, not all the time, but Brianna O'Reilly had faced that slow or sudden end with unwavering certainty, knowing in her heart that the Mojave Wasteland would only grow and learn from her sacrifice. The desert faced anarchy, riots, raider attacks, mutant invasions, but still it burned on. Brianna had found her ending in warheads and explosions, but this wasteland had long forgotten those things. Hope burned as brightly as a nuclear explosion in this place. People lived and thrived, making a difference in the smallest or biggest of ways. Things never settled and they never would. That was the funny thing about war.

It never changed.


	68. Last Words

Wow. This has been a journey.

I don't know where to begin with this. It's 3AM and I've been sobbing a little and I'm ridiculously proud of everything I've accomplished. I can't believe I finished it. I'm still not convinced that I'm awake, alive and actually just finished a story that bests the length of most novels. That's incredible. And the support I've gotten - whether it be lengthy reviews, reassuring keep-it-ups or the consistent rising of views and visitors - has been astonishing. People from America, China, Russia, Mexico, Spain, Canada, people from all over the world have seen this! That's so amazing! Thank you guys so much, it's been such a pleasure writing for you and hearing your feedback. That excited little buzz in my brain when I get a new review, that never gets old.

I still don't know what to say. Thanks to this story, my writing abilities - in my opinion - have improved immensely. I've grown so much as a writer and - here comes the cheese - as a person as well. I'll save you the details and just say that I've grown up a lot and learned a lot about dedication and hard work. And how to fit as many Elvis song titles as possible into The King's dialogue. Now _that _was an accomplishment.

I know a lot of people didn't expect the ending, but I've known for quite a while that this was how it had to go down. Brianna O'Reilly has been an absolute pleasure to work with, and a real pain in the ass at times too. She's always too loud, too abrupt, too much. She wants to get right down to the gunshots or spend far too long talking things out. She didn't take the time to explain to her readers why she had to die, she just went right ahead like the asshole she is. But fleshing her out, watching her grow, that's been a remarkable experience for me. I hope you've enjoyed seeing what she did next as much as I did.

As for the future, who knows? A Fallout 3 fic has definitely been a consideration, but I haven't decided anything for certain. I've got a lot of big things coming up in my personal life - GCSEs mainly - that might prove time-consuming. And, whenever I find the right idea to work with - hopefully sometime soon I'll be writing original works. Leave your thoughts with me - as always, I appreciate them.

So, that's that. It's done. All I can say is thank you, it's been a massive adventure and a truly wonderful experience. I'm extremely proud.

- SurprisinglyOdd [Emma]


	69. Preview

_Gray Walls, impenetrable steel._  
><em>Suffocation! Condemnation!<em>

* * *

><p>Her childhood was a washed out photograph of a life that had passed on long before. She was a baby who giggled at pictures of a smiling sun but would never know the warmth of its rays against her face. Every sunrise was the flickering of fluorescent lights, every gulp of fresh air was filtered through unseen vents. This was her home and it was all she knew. She loved it. She adored Vault 101 with everything in her, finding comfort in the impersonal sterility of the doctor's office that she flitted in and out of, hunching over a book in the corner when the day was slow and tending injured patients with enthusiastic gusto as soon as she was old enough to be trusted with her father's equipment.<p>

She made her place at the front of the classroom, marking her presence with an eager hand shooting to the sky, the hasty scribblings of messy notes soon to be copied in neat, rounded text. Most of what she knew was learned in this room, from mathematics to chemistry, literacy to technology, even tales of the outside and what the world had become. She learned to be reserved and studious, expressing herself with a flourish of a pen and the whirring of machines that she'd taken apart and put back together. The tap-tap-tap of her hammer was the crack of a gunshot; the bold red underlining of headers and titles was the only spilled blood she knew. This vault was a separate world from the horrors of the outside, yet they played make-believe with games like Radroach Hunter and Spot the Raider. The children she played with were rambunctious balls of energy, to contain them was a futile attempt. Their imaginations painted vivid scenes across the grey canvas of their world. Through stories and play, they discovered the feeling of tall grass tickling their feet, the heat of sunlight burning their backs, even the stinging agony of gunshot wounds became so undeniably tangible.

But the door remained closed.

Inquiries were made, of course, but no answer was ever enough. The vault was a mine of knowledge, but this topic kept lips tightly sealed. After years of persistently questioning anyone who would listen, Grace Arlyn accepted the truth for all it was. The vault door would never be opened. The outside world would never be safe. No one would ever enter the vault and no one would ever leave. Here she was born and here she would die. These facts were agonising in their simplicity, but her aching fascination with what lay beyond soon faded, like an intense headache that throbbed for so long that the steady drumming became almost a comfort.

* * *

><p><em>Little hands groping in subterranean uncertainty.<br>Mommy? Daddy? Am I Dead?_

* * *

><p>Every night, her father told her he was Alpha and Omega. As a toddler, she would rest her head on his chest and let the strange poem lull her to sleep, too young to find comfort in the verse but old enough to find it in the rise and fall of his chest. Even now, she wasn't quite sure what the verse meant, but her voice carried a strange sort of hope when she read it aloud. It was her mother's favourite verse, Revelation 21:6.<p>

_"I am Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely."_

Her father told her never to forget it.

She never did.

* * *

><p><em>Nay! Nay! Reborn into purifying fluorescence!<em>

_A face emerges, strong and male._

_Father to me? Father to all!_

* * *

><p>With life in the vault came a speedy adolescence, an interminable period of growth and emotion that passed by in flashes of memories. Getting her first Pip-Boy at the proud age of ten, as well as her new vault responsibilities. Applying her first bandage became taking her first blood sample became mending her first broken limb became completing her first basic surgery. Finally putting together her first radio only to hear a stranger's howling voice crackle from the speakers, before it was confiscated the very next day. Butch DeLoria finding a dirty magazine under Freddie Gomez's bed that was passed around the entire level before Andy the Handy accidentally incinerated it. Completing her GOAT exam and being assigned the role of Electrical Maintenance, only to sweet-talk Brotch the Crotch into giving her the position of Certified Vault Doctor. Her dad was the only other citizen of the same role.<p>

_"Whatcha gonna do, Gracie, go cry to your daddy?"_

_"Leave her alone, Butch, or I'll go crying to Amata's. Let's see what the Overseer thinks of you and your little club."_

_"It's not a club, four-eyes, it's a gang! We're the Tunnel Snakes! Tunnel Snakes rule!"_

Things had been so complicated back then. Wondering why her father was constantly at the receiving end of unprovoked verbal backlash, wondering why her love of science distanced her from the other girls in her class - who she secretly yet unabashedly respected and admired. She couldn't understand her father's random twelve-hour-long disappearances, or why so many other kids distanced themselves from their parents while she continued to love her father with all her heart. She shared with him her greatest goals and ambitions, told him of day-to-day shenanigan and her personal love or hatred for another member of her class. She ranted and raved to him about the ridiculous Tunnel Snake gang that Butch had come up with, and griped about how that scumbag and his cronies would grab her best friend Amata in all kinds of unusual places. The birds and the bees had been the most alarming result of that particular conversation.

_"I really like you, Grace. You're a certified weirdo - I like that about you. Having a best friend who knows more about mechanics than make-up is refreshing."_

_"There's nothing wrong with a girl who likes make-up, Amata. Besides, it's not hard liking books more than boys when the only boys to like are obnoxious, rowdy meat-heads with ugly jackets."_

Turning sixteen was the best thing to ever happen to her. After the GOAT exams were over and done with, she could go on to study anything she wanted while her dad trained her as a real, professional doctor. She worked on the Reactor Level with her father's friend Jonas, making repairs and keeping everything in check. Some days she just stopped by to say hello. She'd spend hours down there, reading and studying and keeping to herself, babbling away to Jonas and humming along to the radio. She maintained the proud reputation of a respectful and studious girl with a passion for science. She respected her elders, aced every exam, reported just about every broken rule to The Overseer before Amata told her to lighten up. They sneaked off from duties every now and then to play games in the lounge or hunt down radroaches. Aside from the occasional malfunction in the water purifier, life was perfect in the vault. Nothing ever went wrong.

_"Grace! Grace, wake up! It's your father, he- he's gone!"_


End file.
